Good Samaritan
by casus17
Summary: Still struggling with Sam's blindness, the boys head to a new town in search of a hunt. But what will happen when the hunt finds one of them first, proving just how much they have come to rely on each other? Sequel to Into Hell's Fires, now COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1: One Step At A Time

**Disclaimer:** I do not own them.

**Warning:** I do believe there is actually no swearing in this fic. Or gore, or anything much warning-worthy actually. Wow.

**Author's Note:** Okay, so _everyone_ was a little, ah, upset with how I left Into Hell's Fires. I do admit it was a little mean. Okay, more than a little. But to make up for it, I'm posting the first _three_ chapters of this latest one. Okay, so it's because of that, and because the first three are maybe a little, ah, long-winded, because they're filling in the last two months since the end of Into Hell's Fires, and setting up the hunt. So, enjoy, and I swear I will probably never ever leave a story on a cliffhanger again.

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GOOD SAMARITAN

**Chapter 1: One Step At A Time**

The room they were waiting in was white and sterile. Dean Winchester sat in the corner of the hospital room. Well, in actual fact he stood, ignoring the chair directly to his left. But he didn't move, didn't speak, didn't do anything but watch Sam.

The younger Winchester was the main source of the tension in the room. He sat, dressed in his usual casual clothes, plus a pair of dark sunglasses, on the thin hospital bed, facing the window. His long legs swung over the side, almost touching the floor. He ignored the hospital pyjamas sitting next to him, as well as the white metal cane on top of them, the one he was desperate to disassociate himself with. Sam was angry, or frustrated, maybe both. And Dean's adamant pleading that he check into the hospital was the source of that.

They were waiting for the doctor to come back, so Sam could tell him he wasn't checking into the hospital after all. Dean decided he would try to change his little brother's mind once more, despite Sam's tense anger.

"Dude, you haven't given them enough time. They have other tests they can do. Maybe this time -."

Sam cut him off. "Exactly! This time. Dean, we've been to four different hospitals, seen four different specialists. All of them have said the same thing! There's nothing anyone can do to bring my vision back. They can't fix it!"

Dean wasn't about to give up. "Just give this doctor a chance. Just check in, let him run his tests. Maybe he'll -."

Again, the younger man cut him off mid-sentence. "No, Dean. Just no. I've had enough. All right? I'm sick of… everything. I just don't want to be… here! Jesus, it's not even your eyesight we're talking about. And it's not a problem a doctor, or medicine, is obviously able to fix. Every doctor has said the same thing. Maybe my sight will come back, maybe it won't. But there's nothing they, or you, can do about it!"

With that he jumped off the bed and grabbed the cane the first hospital had given him. Dean noted with disgruntled amusement that his blind brother didn't even grope for the damn thing this time. He did, however, struggle to find the door. Or would have if the doctor hadn't pushed through it first.

Dean jumped with the abrupt appearance, but Sam didn't even flinch. He knew instantly who the man was. In fact he had known the doctor had been going to enter. In the two months since he had rescued Dean, and lost his sight, his abilities seemed to have grown exponentially until they all but compensated for his lost sense. On the other hand, he missed vision with a passion that scared him.

"Doctor Walsh." Sam addressed the man before he could speak. "Thanks for your time, but I've changed my mind. I'm not checking in. I'm leaving."

He brushed past the doctor and left, noticing Dean hurrying to catch up with him. He sighed. That was the worst thing about his new disability. Dean's incessant mothering. He was taking Sam's blindness worse than Sam was, treating him like he was an invalid, instead of simply blind. He could still look after himself. Sure, inanimate objects like beds and chairs still presented a problem in new places, but he always knew when someone, or some creature, was around him. And at the same time he had found the ability to cut back on channelling everyone's emotions.

Dean caught up with him then, and Sam swallowed another sigh.

"Don't start," he warned his older brother. Dean didn't listen. He never did.

"Sam, that man could have given you your sight back. Why don't you just let him run his tests? What does it matter?"

Sam growled and stopped. Dean stopped too, after taking a few steps, and turned to face his little brother.

"Dean, it matters to me. I've had enough of being prodded and poked. Anyway, it's not like we've heard anything different from _any_ of the doctors you've dragged me to see!"

"Yeah, well, maybe this guy's different," Dean began, but Sam shook his head.

"He started off exactly the same." The younger hunter put on a fair imitation of Doctor Walsh's voice. "'Your preliminary tests have produced unusual results. It's hard to tell what actually caused your loss of vision. You said you witnessed an explosion of light? Yes, well, the results could indicate that." Sam shook his head again, going back to his normal voice. "If there was a cure for watching a fire demon explode, the _first_ doctor would have found it, Dean."

Dean frowned, though Sam wasn't sure whether it was physical or not. "Sam, you wanna watch how loud you're talking there."

Sam knew no one was close enough to hear. "Dean, I've had enough. There's not going to be any miraculous cure. I'm going to be blind for a while, and whether that's forever isn't up to either of us. But enough is enough."

Dean seemed to cave then. He slumped, sighing, and Sam knew he had finally won.

"Fine Sam. Fine." He turned and began walking. Sam walked next to him. "So what are we going to do?" the older Winchester asked, his voice sounding tired.

Sam answered immediately. "Back to hunting. Back to killing that bastard who killed Jess and Mum." He was itching to get back on it; his blindness was only more incentive to prove himself in the hunt.

Dean on the other hand, seemed to have different ideas. He was suddenly sad. "Sam, as much as I hate it, you're blind. How the hell can you hunt?"

Sam stopped again. He grabbed Dean's arm and dragged him to a halt, with more force than was probably necessary.

"Of course I can still hunt! My…" He paused as two nurses walked by. "My abilities have grown. In a hunt, I'll be just as good. Remember back in New Jersey, with that ghost?" He didn't mention Dean's capture that same night, since it had led to his blindness. Dean already felt guilty enough about that. "Yeah, well, it's ten times more powerful."

He heard Dean swallow. "What if _it_ stops working?"

Sam shook his head. "It hasn't yet, in the month and a half since we left Anya and Ash back in Cincinnati." For the first two weeks, it had been on and off, but now it was just on, which came as some relief to Sam.

"What if something starts throwing things at you? You still walk into your bed back at the motel, and we've been there a week." He shook his head. "No, we're not hunting. It's too dangerous."

"What?" He meant Sam would be a liability. But that wasn't what shocked his anger into icy rage. "You're not stopping too, are you? What happened to all that shit about, 'there's always going to be something to hunt'? We're not stopping. Not both of us, anyway."

Dean was torn. "Look, Sam, I know what I said. But things have changed -."

Sam interrupted him. "No shit, genius. You know, I hadn't noticed. Must be the constant darkness I'm living in. But we are not stopping hunting. _You_ are not stopping hunting."

One step at a time, Sam told himself. He reined in his own needs, his own need to keep on hunting. "Look, if I have to stop, I have to stop. But that doesn't mean both of us have to. I can still help, with other things. If you don't want me doing the actual fighting…" He sighed. "I can deal with that. But there are far too many innocent people out there who could die because you use _my_ disability as an excuse."

Dean was silent for a moment. Then he nodded. "Fine. We'll keep on hunting." Suddenly Sam felt him grin. "I do know of a job in Atlanta that could use us," he told his younger brother sheepishly.

Sam shook his head, forcing his own grin. Dean didn't even notice. "I knew you couldn't stop." He shrugged. "All right. Atlanta it is."

They both turned and walked silently from the hospital. Sam barely noticed. He wanted so bad to hunt. To hunt anything, not necessarily the demon who had killed his mum, and Jess. But he couldn't do that if Dean wasn't hunting either. One step at a time. He could deal with it. He would deal with it.

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One Week Later

Steve Lee drove slowly along the backwoods road into Richmond, Georgia. Slowly because the road wasn't exactly safe, especially in the dark. And his car wasn't the best going around either. That, and he always had been a safe driver.

He sighed, turning down the radio as the song finished and talking followed. Then he rubbed his eyes. He was tired but he needed to get home tonight. His father wasn't well, and he needed Steve to run the sports store he owned.

He yawned, thinking about the home cooked meal and bed awaiting him at his parents' home. And then, concentrating back on the dark road, shoved all thoughts of home from his mind.

There, maybe two hundred metres ahead, was a car, a black Mustang, on the side of the road. It hadn't crashed, but broken down. Or so Steve assumed from the steam coming from under the open hood.

Immediately feeling suspicious, Steve still slowed down. He was fifty metres away when he saw the woman leaning against the side of the car, looking anxious.

His sense of decency got the better of him and he pulled over behind the woman's car. She stood up straight at seeing him, and her face tightened.

Steve got out of the car nevertheless. He smiled in what he hoped was a gentle, reassuring way.

"Hi," he said, stopping a little distance away from her. He didn't want to frighten the poor woman. "Do you need some help?"

It wasn't half obvious that she did, but Steve knew she was already a little anxious about his sudden appearance. He wasn't going to press himself on her.

She searched him for a moment, then looked back at her car. When she looked back she was grinning slightly.

"Yeah, I do. I don't know what happened. I was driving and then it started steaming. I pulled over just as it conked out."

Steve smiled. "I know a little about cars. I can take a look if you want."

She nodded with relief. "That would be great, thanks."

Steve nodded back, moving forward. He took her in as he passed. Not the best looking woman, she had gentle green eyes that he couldn't help but stare at. She was solid but her height made her seem more slender than she was.

He bent down over the engine, putting her eyes out of his mind. He leaned on the front, studying the car.

"It looks like your radiator's busted. You're going to need a new one," he said loudly from under the hood. He felt her approach and lean down near him.

"Will that be expensive?" she asked, cringing. He spared her a look as he searched for any further damage.

"Not too bad. You'll be able to get one in town." He quickly checked his watch. "You won't get a tow truck at this hour, but I can give you a lift in if you like."

He turned to look at her again, and then stood up straight. The woman had disappeared. He spun, frowning. Where had she gone?

"Hello?" he called out to the darkness. There was no answer. No sign of the woman.

He spun again, and then gasped. The car had disappeared. His car stood there still, lights highlighting an otherwise empty road. He put a hand to his head and turned, sure he was going crazy.

He barely felt the hit on the head, but fell into darkness nonetheless. It consumed him, and filled him, and then he knew nothing.


	2. Chapter 2: Proving

**Disclaimer:** I think you got the point on chapter 1.

**Warning:** Teensy bit of violence. Not worth mentioning really. But I couldn't just leave it with the disclaimer. What can I say, like to ramble.

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Chapter 2: Proving

A week after deciding to go back to hunting, Sam could feel Dean's ecstatic energy as he walked towards the Atlanta motel door. The young man sighed, feeling that his determination back at the hospital was fast waning. Obviously Dean had destroyed the ghost haunting the house in downtown Atlanta.

He flopped back onto his bed, waiting, waiting for the enthusiastic hunter to come barging through the door to their motel room. He had been waiting for five hours already, waiting in the darkness of his own mind, in a motel room he had been living in for three days already. But it had been the first time he had been alone since he had woken to eternal darkness. And for the first hour he had panicked. Or, he had been jumpy, hearing sounds that weren't there.

Now, he was calm. Well, except for the jealousy he couldn't help but feel. Jealous of his big brother, who at that moment came bounding through the door.

Sam sat up as Dean entered but couldn't bring himself to even look happy. Dean noticed immediately, but didn't mention it. Instead he restrained his bubbling emotions and sat down on his bed.

"Did Dad call back yet?" It was said quietly. Sam just shook his head. He didn't expect John to call anymore. Two months was a long enough wait.

"So, what have you been up to?" the older hunter asked with a cough.

Sam lay back down. "Nothing."

He just couldn't ask how the hunt had gone. He had lied when he had told himself he could deal with Dean hunting while he waited back in the motel. He couldn't. That urge was going to drive him mad.

Dean seemed to sense it. He sighed. "Sam, I know you want to hunt."

"You have no idea," Sam said flatly before he could help himself. Dean became still and perhaps would have spoken if Sam hadn't continued first. "And I can. I know I can. Dean, just give me a chance. Please. Find an easy hunt, and I'll prove to you that I can do it. Please, I'm going to go mental if I have to do this again."

Dean didn't answer for a moment. Then, "I knew this was a mistake. I knew I shouldn't have gone tonight. Or at all."

"Don't start again," Sam warned icily. He stood, putting his hands behind his head in frustration. "Just don't. You are not stopping. I swear, if you do, I will _never_ speak to you again."

"Sam!" Dean was shocked. "Come on. You said it yourself, you'll go mental! We can't hunt, that's obvious."

That was it. Sam had had enough. Growling, he stormed to the door, leaning down to grope for his cane on the desk next to it. And then he left, ignoring Dean's shouts. He felt so angry, he didn't care. He heard Dean coming after him, and slammed the door shut. He knew Dean would come after him, and sure enough not a second later he heard footsteps and a hand on the doorknob. But he didn't want to deal with his overprotective brother. Not at the moment.

So before the door to his motel room even opened, Sam ducked behind a car. He was hidden from view, and the worried Dean forgot his training and ran into the night, after an imaginary Sam.

The younger brother stood once Dean had disappeared and sighed. He wasn't stupid or angry enough to go running. He would end up running into a car, or something. Instead, he began walking, in the opposite direction to Dean, using the hated cane to guide his steps.

Walking, he rubbed the bridge of his nose under his glasses. Not that they made any difference to the darkness anyway. He just hated people staring at his eyes. Dean had described them once, just before their first visit to the first doctor. Almost clear brown, watery, pale. Weird. He had found his sunglasses after that and hadn't taken them off since, except to let the doctors look at them.

He hadn't told Dean anything about that night. The night he had killed a woman by taking her mind from her. Okay, so she had been trying to do the same thing to him, but it didn't make him any less frightened of himself. Of what he was capable of. And he knew Dean would be terrified for him, though he would try desperately to hide it. So what he had told his big brother was that the fire demon had exploded when Eve had tried to kill it, destroying her and blinding him. And Dean had seemed to take it as an answer.

In his deep thought he only just heard the footsteps dogging his. Tense suddenly, Sam took a tight grip on his cane. He could sense others nearby as well, four, no five men. Young men, with a dark tint to them. Sam swallowed. A gang of them. Where the hell had he wandered?

He would have kept on walking, hoping that they weren't interested in him, but he was forced to stop when someone was abruptly standing in his path. Sam stopped, looking to where he thought the guy was standing.

"You lost, blindman?" the guy asked, stepping closer. Sam smiled.

"Nah, just out for a walk. Thanks for your concern though." He made sure the confidence was there, and tried to walk around the guy. But he stopped again when his path was blocked by another, older man.

"So, is that stick just for looks, or you really blind?" the new guy asked. He began to reach out to wave his hand in front of Sam's face.

The Winchester caught the hand before it could start waving. The men around him gasped as the man tried to struggle from the grip. Sam didn't care.

"Don't do that," he warned in an icy tone. "It isn't very nice."

He let the wrist go, and knew the man shook it, trying to get blood flow back into his hand. The men around him stepped closer.

"It isn't very nice to grab others either," the man in front of him said. "Maybe we should teach you a lesson in manners, blindman."

Before Sam could react two of them grabbed his arms from behind. Knowing what was coming, Sam tensed his stomach muscles, using the time to gather himself. Then, before the older guy could hit him, he pushed against the two holding him and kicked out. Both Sam's feet landed in the guy's chest as he ran in, and he fell backwards. As did the two holding Sam.

He recovered before they did and stood, still holding onto his cane, but now holding it like a weapon. He backed away, so he had the wall behind him. The five men started to close in on him.

One jumped forward, and Sam attacked him, swinging with his cane. It connected with an arm, and the man yelped. Before Sam could finish him off, he sensed another two coming in from the other side. One's head met his foot, but the other managed to tackle him to the ground, pinning him to the rough sidewalk. The fist connected with his glasses, knocking them away. The man on top of him gasped.

"Dude, check out his eyes," he said in disbelief.

"Here, check them out," Sam snarled. He grabbed the guy's shirt, sat up, and pulled the man in. His forehead connected with the guy's nose.

He pushed the man off him, but a kick to his ribs sent him sprawling. He groaned, and tried to stand, but another kick made him roll away. He felt another foot coming in fast.

His hand snaked out, and he grabbed the foot. Getting up onto one elbow, he kicked out and felt his foot connect with a knee. Someone screamed as the knee broke.

The others backed away as Sam got to his feet. He had lost his cane somewhere, and his glasses, but he brought his fists up. He knew the gang wasn't going to back down just because he had felled one of them. Two of them were injured, but that wasn't going to stop them.

Two rushed in, and Sam parried one's wild punches to step to the side. He kept close though, close enough to hit the puncher's side three times hard. Then he grabbed the man and kneed him in the stomach. Only his aim was a bit lower, and the man dropped, groaning, and holding his anatomy.

The other came at him, more cautious. Sam knew why. Because the other two gang members were trying to sneak around behind him.

Sam took one step back and then spun, kicking. His foot hit someone in the face, and that someone dropped, falling onto the guy holding his groin, knocking both of them out somehow. At the same time though, one of them grabbed him. The guy behind him.

His arms were held securely, and he tried to struggle free. It didn't work, and the man in front of him, the gang leader, punched him in the face. It was hard enough to make him drop to his knees, shaking his head. He felt them preparing to kick.

Growling again, he tackled the man in front of him. His low angle and strong drive meant the guy's head bounced against the pavement, knocking him out.

Sam stood, breathing hard. He could feel the blood running down his chin from a cut to his mouth. Ignoring it, he turned. But the last man was already running.

Taking his first deep breath, Sam sat down, knowing the four men around him were unconscious. He was tired anyway. His head hurt, and he was pretty sure it wasn't just from the hits it had received. The entire fight he had had to use his abilities to know what his opponents were doing. And he had done it, like he had told Dean he could. It was just that the use had made him mentally tired.

He took another deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. He wondered where he was. And how he was going to get home. He didn't even have a clue where his cane was. He sighed. Okay, so maybe running off, or walking off anyway, hadn't been the brainiest idea he had ever had.

"Hey, are you okay?"

The sudden appearance made Sam jump, twirling to a stand to face this latest foe. Only he didn't get that vibe from this guy. He shrugged.

"Depends on how you look at it," he answered. He looked around, wincing. "Could you find my glasses and my cane?"

The guy started searching. Then he stopped. "You're blind?" he asked, restarting the search. Sam nodded tiredly.

"Was it you who got rid of these guys?" Again Sam nodded, and the guy whistled. Then he walked closer to Sam.

"Here's your cane. Sorry, but your gla-… glasses are ruined."

Sam ignored the stutter at seeing his eyes, and gratefully accepted the cane. "Thanks. Um, could you tell me where I am?"

The guy was getting his phone out. He paused again, but then continued to dial. Sam heard him press three numbers and mentally winced. He was calling the cops.

"You're in a back alley in the bad streets of downtown Atlanta. You walked here, didn't you?"

Sam shrugged. "I wasn't paying attention to where I was going." Well, he supposed he would have to wait until Dean found him. He wasn't even sure what motel they were staying at, or what false name Dean had used to pay for the room.

It didn't take long for the cops to arrive. Sam heard a car door slam shut, and two men whistled, in similar fashion to the guy Sam had just met. His name was Hayden Lee and he had been walking home from work when he had glanced down the alley to see Sam sitting there in the middle of four unconscious guys.

The cops approached them, carefully not stepping on any sprawled limbs. They appraised the situation, and somehow came up with wrong conclusion. They approached Hayden, and Sam rolled his eyes.

"Mr Lee, you haven't been keeping out of trouble like we asked."

The guy put his hands up defensively. "Hey, I just walked into this. You should be talking to Sam here. He's the one who took them out."

Sam felt one of the cops taking a closer look at him. Then the man frowned. "You're blind."

Sam growled. "Thanks, I hadn't noticed."

He needed to call Dean. He just couldn't find his cell phone. He sighed as cops began to ask him questions, which he actually answered truthfully.

He had run off, without his phone, run into a pack of thugs, beat them up, and was now truthfully answering police questions.

Dean was going to kill him.

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Dean wasn't sure how long he had been driving slowly around the streets of downtown Atlanta for, but he was sure it was far too long. His anger at Sam's stupid disappearing act had long given way to pure anxiety and the simple knowledge that he had an idiot for a brother.

He wasn't sure what drew his eyes down the alley. It was probably the spinning lights of the cop car. But he looked down there, and was sure he recognised that mop of brown hair.

Gasping, he pulled over, forgetting even to lock his precious car in his haste to see if it was Sam down there, talking with cops. He all but ran down the alley, only to be stopped by a cop.

"That's my brother," Dean answered to the cop's question of what he was doing here. At the sound of his voice, that mop of brown hair looked around. It was Sam, and he winced at the appearance of his big brother. Dean growled. He was going to kill him.

Then he was through the policeman and was striding towards Sam. He stopped maybe three feet away.

"What happened?" Dean asked breathlessly. He had finally seen Sam's blackening eye and cut lip. And the way he was holding his ribs couldn't be good either.

Another policeman answered. "You're brother was jumped by thugs, Mr Winchester."

Dean's jaw dropped. "What? Are you okay? What happened?"

Sam scowled, and it made Dean notice the lack of sunglasses. Maybe that was why the cop and the random guy were looking a tad uncomfortable. He couldn't see his own angry face.

"Dean, calm down, okay. It's fine. They jumped me, I fought them, I won. One ran off, the others have already been taken to hospital. Nothing serious," he assured.

Dean's jaw dropped again. "You fought them?" And won. A sudden taste of unease made him swallow. Obviously Sam's abilities were ten times better. He wondered if that was a good thing.

"Yes, Dean, fought. Why is it so hard to believe? I told you I was fine."

I told you I could hunt, was what he meant. For the first time in two months, Dean actually considered that possibility.

He shook his head and turned to the cop. "Can I take my brother home now, sir?" he asked. The man nodded.

"Sure. Your brother isn't pressing charges, but we have enough to put them away for a while anyway. It was catching them that we were having trouble with. You can leave."

The man walked away and Dean swallowed a sigh of relief. Sam turned to the third guy and shook his hand.

"Thanks for your help," he said, turning away. Dean nodded as well, and they both walked back to the car.

He was glad Sam waited until they were back at the motel to talk. The younger man had just flopped down onto his bed. Dean was pouring himself a glass of water.

"So, think I can hunt?" Sam asked quietly. Dean didn't answer for a moment.

"How many of them were there?" he asked. Sam shrugged.

"Five."

"What did you do to them?"

Sam just shrugged for an answer. Dean didn't turn to him, but he sighed.

"We'll give it a test, next hunt. See how you go. No promises though Sam."

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Oh yeah, I should mention, that this is basically first season, or set around that time. So, they haven't found John yet. Not that it isn't half obvious now.


	3. Chapter 3: Back To Hunting

**Disclaimer:** Yada, yada

**Warning:** Long chapter. Well, longer than the last two.

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Chapter 3: Back to Hunting

"Man, I need new glasses," Sam declared suddenly as they sat eating breakfast in the motel room. Dean looked up at him. After last night, Sam seemed okay. He had small rings under his eyes, and was a little tired. Still the black eye wasn't as bad as it had appeared the night before, and the cut lip was almost unnoticeable. But his eyes, his watery brown eyes, stood out starkly against his face.

Dean nodded. "We'll go to the store after breakfast. We should get some supplies for the road anyway." And coffee, too, because he would be doing all the driving. "Then we'll start searching for our next gig."

Sam nodded back. "Sounds good." Then he sighed. "Well, you can start searching. I won't be much help in that department."

Dean shook his head. "That's okay. We'll find something for you to do." He swallowed the last piece of his toast. "Ready? We'll get an early start."

The trip to the shops was largely silent because Sam seemed to zone in and out a little. Dean watched him with a worried frown.

"You okay, dude?" Dean asked as he put the car into park. Sam jumped a little at the sound, jerking himself awake.

"Yeah. I've just got to get used to using my abilities to fight. I'm just a little tired."

Dean nodded after a moment. "Anyway, we're here. You need help getting…" He trailed off at seeing Sam scowl.

"I'll be fine." He opened the door, and using his cane, found his way to the door. Dean only helped a little, coughing when Sam was going to walk into a wall.

At the rows of sunglasses, Sam blushed and then coughed. "Ah, you'll have to help me here Dean."

Dean didn't understand for a moment. Then he couldn't help but laugh. Sam scowled at him before smiling weakly.

"Sure, Sam. Ah, let's see." He tried to keep his amusement contained. Sam didn't seem to mind though. Maybe things didn't have to always serious about his little brother's blindness.

He smirked as he picked up a pair of sunnies. "Here, try these on, Sammy."

His little brother just looked at him. He didn't even blink. "What?" Dean demanded, trying to keep his amusement down. Still Sam didn't move. "Dude, try this cool new thing. It's called blinking!"

Sam crossed his arms. "You know it's not nice to trick blind men, Dean. Let me guess, they're pink, huge, with white love hearts."

Dean's jaw dropped. Then he scowled. "I hate it when you do that." But he replaced the pink, huge, love hearted glasses.

Sam actually grinned. "Yeah, well, it's hard to not know you're up to something when a psychic in Arizona could feel your amusement. Pick something I'd pick, Dean."

The older man shook his head. "I really don't like it when you do that. Can't you turn it off or something?"

"I don't know how. Besides I'll walk into things more than I already do."

"Then, can't you, I dunno, not do it with me. It's freaky."

Sam grinned. "Yeah, I hate it when you spot some hot girl. Those feelings are dirty, Dean."

Dean actually blushed. "Dude! Keep my thoughts out of your head." But there wasn't any spite in it. He picked up a pair of sunglasses. "Here, these ones are good."

Sam nodded, and began to follow Dean around the store. He did try to keep Dean's emotions out of his head. It was just hard when the emotions were strong. Like when Dean spotted some hot girl.

Within ten minutes they were at the counter. Sam felt himself zoning off again, and yawned. He knew Dean noticed, and felt his brother frown.

But before Dean could mention it, something caught his eye. He looked down and spied the paper. It was the headline that had grabbed his attention.

He picked up the paper and bought it as well. Sam put on the sunnies as soon as their items were paid for, but Dean barely noticed. He read the front page article as he walked to the car.

Sam noticed his preoccupation as he struggled to find the door handle. That scared him. Not Dean's intense concentration on whatever he was reading, though that was unusual. But the fact that things that had once been so familiar to him were becoming increasingly difficult to remember. Like what the Impala looked like, or where it's handle was. He had spent half of his life in this car, and now he had to grope for the handle. It was the same with memories. Once so vivid, the recollections of his life were becoming blurry, the detail indistinct. Faces, colours, tones, were giving way to simple audio. And there was nothing he could do about it.

He got in the car, trying hard to ignore his own thoughts. Dean, too, groped for the handle, but that was because he was still engrossed in his reading.

After a minute or two, during which Sam wished he could drive himself, Dean leaned back.

"Dude, che-… listen to this." Sam noticed the stumble over 'check'. Dean knew that 'check' implied a visual checking of something, which was well beyond the younger man. However, Dean's stumble was only another reminder. He wished Dean would just act… well, like Dean.

Dean continued, ignoring his own pause. "Twelfth Man Disappears." Sam realized he was reading from the paper. "Police have yet again been stumped by the twelfth disappearance this year. Local man, Steven Lee, 25, disappeared two nights ago as he was driving home on West Road. His car was found late last night, abandoned on the side of the road, with the engine drained. A mechanic said the lights were left on, and police assume Lee departed the car either in a hurry, or with the intention of quickly returning.

"Police theories are varied, from kidnapping rink to serial murderer. However, little evidence, and the fact that none of the men have been found, means that theories will remain as such."

Dean turned then, a little excited. "Dude, that sounds like our kind of gig."

Sam nodded, feeling the need to hunt as well. "Where?" he asked. Dean checked the paper.

"Richmond, not far from here. We can make it by nightfall if we leave now."

* * *

It was an hour after dark that night as Dean walked towards one of three bars in Richmond, Georgia. He grinned in anticipation of drinking some beer and hustling some pool. His grin dropped a little as he thought on the fact that he hadn't set foot in a bar in two months, ever since Sam had lost his sight. And then it dropped a little further as he lamented the fact that Sam had refused to come with him.

He could understand. But he felt guilty for just leaving his little brother in the motel room, with nothing to do but listen to his own thoughts. Still, it had been Sam who had told him to go. Told? The kid had practically pushed him out the door, spitting some bullshit about how they needed cash and that living off the fake credit cards was just an easy way to bring the law down on them.

He pushed open the door, smiling as he entered the bar. Only a few heads turned to look at him, and he nodded when he caught someone's gaze. He walked straight to the cute brunette behind the counter and ordered a beer. Then, flashing her a charming smile, he swaggered over to the pool table where a game was just finishing up. Grinning confidently, he placed twenty bucks on the side.

An hour later he had nearly two hundred and decided it was time to get to business. Or at least the business that had brought him and Sam to Richmond. He shouted the men he had been playing against, appeasing their disgruntlement at getting their butts kicked. Then they all sat down and Dean slowly steered the conversation to the disappearances out on West Road.

"Yeah, it's a terrible thing," one guy said. He was the youngest there, maybe just old enough to be in the place. The oldest there had to be in his fifties, at least.

"Did you know any of them?" Dean asked curiously, taking a sip of his beer.

Two of the men nodded. There were four of them, plus Dean, at the table. "Yeah, I knew Mark. He was the second one to go…" The guy trailed off for a moment, shaking his head sadly. "Damn shame too. Couldn't ask for a better mate. Best bloke in the world."

Dean frowned. That was basically what the papers had said about this Steven Lee. The second nodder was agreeing.

"Same with Tyler," the guy said. "Would always help you out, even if it meant he lost something."

Doormat was the word that sprung to Dean's mind, but he kept it to himself. He sighed. "It's terrible. And they all disappeared out on West Road?"

The oldest man there nodded. "Same as before."

Dean's interest was immediately perked. "Before?" he questioned. The man nodded.

"Yeah. Back when I was in my twenties, there was a string of murders. People disappearing on West Road, their cars abandoned. Most of them were never seen alive again."

"What do you mean, most of them? Did they ever catch the guy who did it? What happened to them?" So many question were coming to Dean's mind that the older man put his hands up as if defending himself.

"Whoa, settle boy," he chuckled. "Yes, they caught the man, of sorts." He shook his head. "One of the victims, her name was Ella Fitzgerald. Apparently she escaped, and killed the man in the process. This was months after she disappeared mind. Everyone had given her up for dead." He shook his head again. "Maybe it would have been better for her if she had died."

Dean frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Well," the man breathed. "No one rightly knows what the man, ah, Jeff Wain if I remember correctly. No one knows what he did to the people he took. The way I heard it, Ella was coherent enough only to point out who had taken her. They found his body in the forest. Apart from that… well, she was mad."

"Mad?" Dean clarified. "As in insane?"

The man nodded. The other three were listening just as intently. Apparently they hadn't heard it either.

"Yes, insane. She couldn't even tell police what had been done to her. Reports said examiners said she had been without sunlight for a long time… but apart from that… well, your guess is as good as ours."

Dean frowned in thought. "What happened to Ella?" he asked quietly. Could they have a restless spirit on their hands? The spirit of this guy Jeff Wain, maybe?

"As far as I know, she's still in the hospital she was put into when they found her. She never recovered."

Dean nodded slowly, quietening down. The conversation continued without him. A little later he checked his watch and realized he had been away from Sam for almost three hours. He should be getting back.

He rose, excusing himself from the table. He downed his beer first, realizing he hadn't touched it since the older man had began talking. And then he turned to leave.

A man turning away sharply caught his attention. Frowning – Dean kept on forgetting about the possibility of wrinkles – he studied the guy inconspicuously as he walked out. He couldn't be sure, but he thought he had seen that guy before. Or maybe he was just getting paranoid.

* * *

Within ten minutes of Dean leaving, Sam was bored. He lay back on the bed, making noises with his mouth and trying hard to block out the copious amounts of love coming from the room next door. He just didn't want to know about that stuff.

Sighing noisily, he sat up, thinking about what he could do. These times were the worst. When there was nothing, absolutely nothing, to do. He had thought about teaching himself Braille, but he hadn't gotten around to finding the right books yet. If he could find them. He would have to get Dean to do it.

But that didn't solve the present problem. Which was his current boredom. He stood, tracing his way around the room once more. At least this time he didn't knock his hip on the table. He already had a growing bruise from the first and second time he had done it. A bruise he rubbed absently as he traced his way around the room.

He was hopeful that if he did it often enough, he would be able to move freely around the room, using a sketch in his head. Only the sketches in his head were pretty terrible. He always had been a sucky artist. A point proven as he banged into the bedside table, hitting his knee and swearing loudly.

He hopped to where he hoped the bed was, and sat. Only the bed was further away then he thought and he fell, knocking his back on the metal frame holding the mattress in place.

Cursing once more didn't relieve him of the anger building up. In an attempt to rid himself of it, he punched the floor. He refused to believe it was a hissy fit. Would he ever get it?

He remembered, when he had first realized he was blind, up in that house north of Milwaukee, he had gone into some form of shock. He had felt numb, disbelieving, only how could you not believe when every time you woke, the world was darker than in your dreams and mind.

Then had come helplessness, thankfully after they had left Anya and Ash in their dust. That week and a bit had involved a lot of tears, and the fear that he would be blind forever. That never again he would watch… anything. Or read a newspaper article, or… anything. Never see anything ever again.

Then had come anger. Anger at the world, for placing yet another burden on his shoulder. The visions, the sensing everyone around him, sensing and channelling their emotions, uncontrollable telekinesis, that wasn't enough? Now he had to do it in the dark as well?

Now he was just resigned. Well, not just. At times that helplessness, that fear, that anger still came through. Like now. Why couldn't he just be given time to sort one thing out before another assailed him?

He sighed, losing the anger quickly in the wake of his thoughts. He ran a hand over his face, trying to relax.

The only problem was, with relaxation returned boredom. He leaned his head back against the bed and sighed. He could just go to bed. Only he wasn't tired. He had had enough sleep in the car.

He got up to sit on the bed. Now what could he do. He needed something to listen to music on, he realized. He would have to buy a walkman, or a discman, or something. But that still didn't solve the problem of now.

His mind turned back to his thoughts. Uncontrollable telekinesis. He frowned, thinking. Could he try it? He had done it enough now to know it wasn't going to be one of those desperate one-timers like Dean had hoped. No, it was a part of him, whether he liked it or not. And judging by the 'earthquake' he had caused in Cincinnati, he needed to get a hold on it or risk hurting someone.

He shuffled further back on the bed and crossed his legs. Then he pulled a coin out of his pocket. He felt it was better to start light, and work his way up from there.

He held the coin on a flat palm and took a deep breath. He grinned uneasily as he realized how nervous he was. Well, there was no time like the present.

He began concentrating hard on the coin. He closed his eyes: they were useless anyway. In his mind he envisioned the coin on his palm. And then he imagined it floating up. He concentrated on it so hard, he was sure if he were a Tibetan monk he would have brought the thing to life. Or something annoyingly unnatural like that.

Nothing happened. Sam opened his eyes out of pure reflex, opened them to the darkness. He dropped his hand, sighing. How had he done it?

He remembered the first time, back in Michigan. He had just seen Dean die, and the fear had sprung out of him, pushing away the huge cabinet in front of him.

And then back in Cincinnati. That had been pressure and fear, he thought. The battle in his mind, he believed, had extended out, making the whole building shake as he denied the psychic Eve her victory.

And then, of course, in that house north of Milwaukee. The first time in there had been anger, and fear, at the possibility that his brother was dead. And then, when Eve's mind had filled his, through no will of either of them… that had been pressure exploding to ensure his mind didn't die from the undiluted power flooding it.

So, fear, anger or pressure. They appeared to be the triggers. He chewed his lip, thinking. Which would be the easiest to replicate? Not the pressure, obviously. For that he needed someone else. Fear… maybe. But with his sight he had lost that fear, that driving fear, of someone else in his head. He knew now that he could stop it. And as for the fear of Dean dying… well, he always assumed Dean dying was impossible until he actually saw his brother get hurt.

That left anger. He shrugged to himself, supposing it was worth a shot. He put his hand out again, mentally preparing himself.

He wasn't sure how long he concentrated on memories dredged up to make himself angry. It could have been a minute, it could have been an hour, but suddenly he felt that anger blossom in his head.

He felt his face contort into a growl, going over and over the memories. Leaving home, or the place he called home, to go to Stanford, the argument with his father, John kicking him out. Jessica dying, being murdered by the same thing that had killed his mother. Demons thinking they could use him. Psychics thinking they could steal his mind. That one really aggravated him. It was his mind, they had no right to take it. It wasn't theirs, why couldn't they leave him alone!

It was then that he realized the room was shaking. Not as bad as back in Cincinnati, but the bed underneath him quivered, or shivered. He listened carefully and realized it wasn't the only thing. The bedside table rocked, the bed across from him did, the table. Even the duffle bags were. Only the coin wasn't.

Sweating now, he concentrated, trying to find where the power was coming from in his mind. He found it after a while, deep in the recesses of his head. And from there he tried to rope it in. And it worked. Everything stopped shaking.

Grinning with relief and triumph, Sam directed the telekinesis to the coin on his hand. And as he concentrated, it rose. He felt it leave his palm, and he took a deep breath, relaxing. Now this was more like it.

He let the coin drop back onto his hand, and let the power die down. As soon as it left, he slumped a little, tired from the effort. He wiped sweat from his forehead, taking another deep breath. He was weary.

But that didn't mean he was going to stop. No, he was making progress. He took a few more deep breaths and concentrated again.

Only in his inexperience and exhaustion from the previous attempt, and the night before, he concentrated too hard. Instead of gathering the little bit of energy it took to lift a coin, he opened the floodgates. The power sprung from him, a mind of its own, glad to be free from the confines of Sam's mind.

He groaned sharply as he felt the power leave him, felt his body jerk once before the power had extended throughout the room. Once more everything began shaking, with more violence than before.

He took a sharp breath, not in pain, but panicking now. He tried desperately to rein in the telekinetic energy, but it seemed useless. He couldn't break the concentration. He tried, tried to force everything to stop shaking, tried to redirect the energy. It didn't work. Everything began floating into the air. He gasped, feeling the energy around him. It was powerful. Powerful beyond anything he had ever expected to come from his mind. And his mind couldn't control it.

He gasped again as the lighter objects, the lamp, the bags, the clock, the alarm, all started spinning around the room. And as hard as he tried, he couldn't get it to stop.

* * *

Okay, so penance over. It'll be one chapter instalments from here on. Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4: Thing About Psychics

**Disclaimer:** I asked Santa, but I'm pretty sure I'm on the naughty list.

**Author's Note:** Oh. My. GOD. For all those Australian viewers out there, Supernatural should be returning, on Channel 10, on the 15th of January, at 8:30 pm. It's a Monday, like last year. Least that's what I read off a site, one that's pretty reliable, I'd say. I am SUPER-PSYCHED! I'm serious, I am sooooooo near hyperventilating right now! Not long, 23 days! What a great Christmas present!

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Chapter 4: Thing About Psychics

When Dean pulled into the motel, he knew immediately that something was wrong. The flickering lights coming from his and Sam's room had something to do with that. His jaw dropped, and he parked across two or three parking spaces in his desperation to get out and into the room where Sammy was.

He raced up to the door, fumbling with the keys in his haste to get inside. He finally got the door open… and stood in it, mouth still wide open. Now this he never expected.

There was no attacker, for which Dean would always be grateful. No, Sam was alone, sitting on his bed, the only thing that was unmoving, his face pale with sweat practically pouring from him. And everything else in the room was… floating. Floating, spinning, moving.

And Dean had the terrible feeling that that had something to do with Sam.

Quickly gathering his wits, he shut the door and dodged the lamp and his bag to get to Sam. Once at the bed, he grabbed his little brother's shoulders and took off the glasses to look him in the eye. Not that the eye contact did Sam any good. He still looked as if he were far away. Only this time, Dean had a suspicion that that was true.

"Sam!" Dean said loudly, his tone hard and commanding. There wasn't even a blink of recognition. "Come on, Sammy, let it go!"

Still nothing. Dean spared a quick glance for the objects in the room, which were beginning to pick up pace. And the other bed, the only one moving, was starting to look angrily violent.

"Sammy, concentrate!" Dean ordered firmly. There was a flicker of movement. "Come on, buddy, you can do it. I know you can. Just concentrate."

The eyes moved, but it was hard to tell if Dean's words were having any effect. Sam's eyes always looked distant, or had done since…

Suddenly he noticed that everything was slowing down, and that the lights no longer flickered. He heaved a sigh of relief. And then there was a thud as everything dropped where it was. Dean flinched as the bag almost hit him.

He returned his attention to his little brother immediately. Sam gasped for breath as if he had run a mile, sweating still and looking absolutely exhausted.

"Dean?" the younger man asked tentatively. The elder frowned.

"Yeah, Sam, it's me." He gave a pause. "Isn't it working anymore?"

Sam shook his head. "No, it is. It's just that now I'm exhausted, it doesn't work as good." He was still breathing heavily.

Dean nodded after a moment, then stood to get a cup of water. He handed it to Sam, who drank it all in one go.

"What happened?" Dean asked, sitting on the opposite bed. It was crooked now, and he realized he would have to move everything back into its right position. But later.

At his question, Sam bit his lip, grinning uneasily. "I, ah… I was practising. And it kind of got away from me."

Dean frowned. "Practising?" He looked around, spying all the objects that had been moving around the room. Then it dawned on him. "You mean practising telekinesis?"

Sam nodded, still with that uneasy look. Dean growled.

"Dammit, Sam. What the hell did you think you were doing?"

Sam was angry at once. "Practising, Dean. I told you about Cincinnati. I don't want that to happen again. I don't want someone hurt because I can't control my damn head!"

I don't want you hurt. That was what he meant, and Dean knew it. The older brother sighed.

"I know you don't. But you should have waited until I was with you. What would have happened if I hadn't shown up? You were so out of it. You couldn't control it. _I_ don't want _you_ hurt because you can't control your freaky head. Screw everybody else."

Sam grinned at the worry in his older brother's voice. "Oh, Dean, you do care," he joked, all anger gone. He could see Dean's point.

"Of course I care, numbnuts. I'm your brother. Now swear you won't do it again, without me here. We don't want you going haywire now, do we now."

Sam swore it, and then decided he would be more comfortable with another topic. "So, did you find out anything interesting?"

He felt Dean grin. "Come on, this is me. I always find out something interesting." He stood up and poured another cup of water for Sam. "This isn't the first time people have been disappearing," he told Sam as he handed his brother the cup. "In 1976, some people disappeared. Only one was ever found again, or alive at least. And… get this. She murdered the guy who kidnapped her."

Sam frowned with thought. "So, you think this guy's angry spirit is back haunting the road, repeating his crimes."

Dean nodded. "Probably. I mean, it makes sense. From what this guy at the bar was telling me, the disappearances are exactly the same. Same road, same… okay, so I only know it was the same road. But it can't be just coincidence."

Out of all the reactions Dean had expected to his news, Sam's was far from one of the more obvious. He blushed, gasping, and eyes going wide. And then he groaned, cursing under his breath. Standing, he told Dean to continue. The older brother frowned as he watched Sam go to the bathroom and turn the tap on. But he did as he was told.

"So, the story goes, there was this girl taken, her name was Ella Fitzgerald. Months after she was taken, someone found her, wandering. She was insane, and apparently deprived of sunlight." His frown deepened as Sam continued to wash his hands but he didn't pause. "The only thing she could tell police was that her attacker was this Jeff Wain dude. They found his body in the bush – Ella killed him. From what this guy told me, she's still in the hospital where they put her thirty years ago."

Sam only nodded, still washing his hands. Every now and then he would give a little groan of despair and look up at the mirror. Dean gave his brother a curious look.

"Dude, I think your hands are clean."

For an answer Sam just glowered at him. Dean shook his head.

"Sam, what's the problem?"

And his little brother gave him the most awful, pathetic look you could imagine. He looked so despairing that Dean's jaw dropped.

"Sammy?"

Sam sighed, going back to washing his hands. "The people in the next room are being dirty," he muttered, so quietly that Dean almost didn't hear.

For a moment Dean didn't understand. "Oooka-," he began to say slowly. Then his eyebrows rose and he stopped mid-word. "Oh."

Sam nodded pathetically. Dean didn't know what to say. So he cracked up laughing instead.

Sam blushed further. "Yeah, so not funny, Dean." He shook his head, but turned the taps off. Dean noticed his shaking hands, and decided not to comment on it. He knew Sam was exhausted; mentioning it would only make the younger hunter annoyed.

"So, you need to do some research on these disappearances in 1976," Sam said, trying desperately to change the subject. Dean let him, nodding.

"And, see if there have been any disappearances between then and now," Sam continued. "And if not, why this spirit hasn't been grabbing anyone before now."

Dean continued nodding. "I know how to do my job, Sam," he told his little brother quietly. Sam sighed. "You should catch some sleep," Dean added.

"I know. I just wish I could do the research myself. I hate just sitting here, doing nothing."

"I know Sammy. But what can we do about it?"

And that sentence summed up the helplessness Sam could feel as he lay down to sleep. It didn't take long, but that was because he wanted to drown out Dean's tapping on the keyboard as quickly as possible.

* * *

"So, what did you learn last night, after I went to sleep?" Sam asked as Dean drove towards West Road the next morning. They knew they had to study the area, look for anything unusual, or out of the ordinary. Sam was just hoping Dean was better prepared than he had been before the younger had fallen asleep.

Dean spared his brother a glance before diverting his attention back to the road. Still, he told Sam everything the computer had told him.

"So, the story of this Ella Fitzgerald, killing her kidnapper, that's true. She disappeared March twelfth, and was found wandering the forest, blood all over her, on the fifteenth of September. Police later found the body of Jeff Wain in the forest near where Ella had been found. She was taken to the nearest psychiatric hospital, and has been there ever since. Wain was buried, but no funeral, and only his name, birth date and death date on the stone."

"So, if it is him, there are bones to burn," Sam said with relief. Dean nodded.

"Exactly, which is a good thing."

Sam tapped his fingers on the door handle. "So, were there any disappearances before this year?" he asked curiously.

"No, none. Or at least, none that match. The first one was this year, on the second of February. The last one was Steven Lee, two nights ago, with another ten men, only men, in between, spread out over different dates. They are becoming more frequent though."

Sam frowned in thought. "So why have they just started now?" he asked no one in particular. "I mean, if it is this Wain guy, why didn't he start immediately. And why only men?" He sighed. "It doesn't seem to make sense."

Dean nodded in agreement. "I know. But maybe once we've checked out West Road, it'll shed some light on the issue."

Sam felt the car slowing down and realized they were approaching the spot where Steven Lee's car had been found. Soon after the car stopped and both brothers got out. Sam however, couldn't do much, and leaned against the hood of the Impala while Dean walked around. He didn't go far, but searched the ground, talking at the same time.

"So, the car was here," Dean began. "It was about five metres from where the Impala is. There's no sign of another car anywhere." He sighed with exasperation. "I can't tell if there were more than one set of prints, seeing as the cops have walked all over this place. But there is a mark here that looks like someone collapsed here. It's about twenty metres from where Lee's car was. And, there are drag marks as well. Someone was dragged from the side of the road." Dean's voice was becoming fainter as he followed the marks. "And it leads into the forest."

Sam suddenly grinned. "Dean, stop," he called out, but there was no alarm in his voice. Dean stopped though, turning to wonder what had his little brother so amused.

"Why?" the older hunter asked. He couldn't see any reason for it.

"Cause if you go much further, you're going to run into the guy hiding in the bushes."

Dean's jaw dropped at this, but Sam just shrugged. "Take a look. He's about six feet in front of you."

The older hunter stalked forward, and Sam grinned again. He had sensed the guy the instant he had gotten out of the car, but hadn't said anything. He wasn't sure who it was, just that the man was familiar and that he meant no harm. And sure enough, Dean jumped as the man stood up.

Both men were shocked, Dean at the sudden appearance and the man at being found out.

"Okay, okay," the guy said, putting his hands up. Dean frowned. "Look, sorry. I just saw you coming and hid. I didn't know who you were."

Sam finally realized who it was, and he frowned crossly. "Yeah, but you knew who we were when we got out of the car. Why not show yourself then, Hayden?"

The guy, Hayden Lee, who Sam had met in Atlanta, shrugged sheepishly. "I still didn't know what you were doing." Then he glared suspiciously. "I thought you were blind."

Sam shrugged. "I am. But you're a loud breather." Okay, so that was a lie. Dean hadn't even known he was there, so the guy had to be good. But he wasn't just about to tell this complete stranger that he had _felt_ his presence.

He could tell Hayden wasn't convinced, but he stepped forward, moving past Dean, who was just getting his wits back.

"You're the guy from the bar last night. You were watching me."

Hayden nodded. "I wanted to know what you were doing. I mean, I meet you once, in Atlanta, and then suddenly you're in Richmond, when I'm here, and when twelve people have disappeared? I was suspicious."

Sam was suspicious himself actually. It was very rare for actual coincidences to fall upon him and Dean. But he didn't let it show.

"So, what are you doing here?" he asked Hayden instead.

"My brother, Steve, he disappeared." Dean nodded understandingly. "I came to try and find him. What about you?"

"We're private investigators," Dean said without blinking. "We're here trying to solve this as well." And it was mostly the truth. They were here to investigate the disappearances, and they were going to try to do it very privately. "Tell me, what was Steve like?"

Sam wasn't sure Hayden believed them, but the guy shrugged. "He was…" Suddenly the man was sad. "He was a great guy. Best brother you could have. He was coming home to help our father when he disappeared. He… he's the only one from my family who's spoken to me since I went to prison. Dad disowned me, but Steve kept in touch, against our father's wishes."

Dean nodded. So that was something all the victims seemed to have in common. They were great guys.

Suddenly Hayden checked his watch. "Look, I have to go." He looked at them both. "Sorry for spying on you." And then he began walking.

Sam and Dean shared a look. "Hey, Hayden, do you want a lift?" Dean called out. Hayden didn't even turn, just shook his head.

* * *

Dean and Sam returned to the motel room. Dean sighed, chucking his coat onto the chair, while Sam fumbled his way towards the bed. He didn't miss it this time, for which he was glad. That morning he had been quite sore.

Ignoring it he turned his attention to his preoccupied brother. "So, what are you thinking?" he asked Dean.

Dean shrugged. "What Hayden said about his brother. About him being a nice guy, and everything. Well, two of the guys from the bar last night said the same about another two of the victims. And on the computer last night, I looked up the rest of them. They're all guys, and they're all nice. Most of them seem too nice. So, this thing, whatever it is, is going after nice guys."

"And why does that bother you?" Sam asked, a little confused. It had happened plenty of times before. The innocent, the nice, they seemed to be the ones to suffer. It was a fact hunters had to reconcile with.

"I'm not sure. I mean, if it is this Jeff Wain's spirit… I don't know. It just bugs me."

"Do you reckon there's anything else that could be doing it?" Sam asked. Dean shrugged.

"I doubt it's a woman in white. The people who have disappeared are all too nice to be unfaithful. Could be vampires," Dean suggested. "It sounds like their kind of thing, waiting on the road, and all that. But you'd think there would be more evidence of them, if that were the case. And of course, it could be any of the murdered victims of Wain."

Sam frowned. "Yeah, but _that_ theory bugs me. I mean, why now? Why wait thirty years to begin? Unless something happened to make the spirit restless, it doesn't make sense to just start now."

Dean nodded "You're right. But that doesn't leave us with many options." He cocked his head suddenly. "We should see if we can see the survivor, Ella Fitzgerald."

"I thought she was mad," Sam pointed out. "How would we know what she's saying isn't just insane mumblings?"

"We wouldn't," Dean admitted. "But we won't know unless we look. And, they might only think she's mad because she keeps on explaining something supernatural."

"Okay," Sam said slowly. "How do we get in? Isn't she in a psychiatric hospital?"

"Same way we saw Jaffa… or Jaffy, or whatever his name was. The one who survived the plane crash. Pretend we're cops, investigating the current disappearances, and say that we need to talk to her."

Sam nodded. "Okay. Fine. When do you want to go?"

"After lunch. I'm hungry."

Suddenly Sam blushed again, groaning in despair. "Come on!" he moaned quietly. "It's the middle of the day. There have to be some boundaries!"

Dean frowned before he heard the suspicious noises coming from the room next door. He coughed to hide his laughter. "Scrap that. I feel like something greasy anyway. We'll grab lunch on the way."

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Merry Christmas everyone!


	5. Chapter 5: Ella

**Disclaimer:**Nope. Santa didn't give 'em to me. Lots of tears.

**Author's Note:** Sorry there, wasn't a post yesterday, lots of stuff to do, so little time. Same went today, but I couldn't not post two days in a row, so I found like five minutes to post. Anyways, hope you like it!

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Chapter 5: Ella

They arrived at the hospital in the middle of the afternoon. It was in Collingwood, a large town a few hours away. They stopped for lunch and then continued on their way. Sam wasn't hungry anyway, what with wishing people could do… what they did best, in a very secluded room somewhere. Or at least at night. He had given up wishing he didn't know how people were feeling.

Sam stopped Dean before could get out of the car. "Ah, Dean. They're not going to believe that I'm a cop. Not when it's obvious that I'm blind."

Dean only appeared shocked for a moment. Then he shook his head. "Keep your glasses on. Stay beside me. Don't take in the cane. You'll be able to… ah, feel, where I go. Just follow me, and you should be fine. You won't run into anything, I swear."

Sam felt a flutter of anxiety. He hadn't trusted his instincts to that degree. Ever. He wasn't even sure he could.

Dean seemed to sense his thoughts. "You can trust me, Sam. I'll make sure you don't run into anything."

Sam nodded quickly, gathering his courage before it disappeared. He never went without something to tell him what he was walking into. Not using it made the insecurities and the darkness far more obvious.

They walked in, slowly, so Sam could get used to following pure instinct. He stayed barely half a step behind Dean, stopping when his brother stopped, turning when he turned.

Sam wasn't sure how they did it, but somehow they made it past the front desk, gaining an audience with the doctor in charge of Ella. He tried to walk like a man with confidence. Like a man with vision. Somehow he did it, enough even to convince the doctor. Actually, the harder part was convincing the man to let them see Ella at all.

"She's not really coherent," the doctor maintained. "She talks in nought but riddles, goes on about darkness and little else."

Dean refused to sigh at the man's stubbornness. Or gag at the man's medieval language for that matter. Who the hell said nought? "Please, Doctor Adams. Just let us talk to her. Even if she gives us one little thing to go on, it may mean we can find those poor men who have disappeared. Just one lead could be enough."

Adams looked between the two of them. Then he sighed. "Fine. Fine. Talk to her. I don't think it will do any good though." He nodded at the nurse behind the ward's desk. "Take them to see her, Clare. Keep a close watch though."

The nurse nodded, and Dean forced a thanking smile for the doctor. Then he began to follow Clare, while Sam followed him.

They didn't walk far, but came to stand just outside a closed door. Dean looked in, while Sam wished he could. But he could sense her, just, and it was one of the strangest feelings he had ever had.

They didn't go in straight away. "So what's actually wrong with her?" Dean asked softly. It felt wrong to talk any louder.

Clare shrugged. "No one's really sure. Some form of post-traumatic stress. Or at least, that's what Doctor Adams says." The woman sighed. "This is one of her better days."

Dean stared in shock at the rocking, pale woman in the room. "Better? What's worse?"

"She goes into a… I don't know, like a waking coma or something. Doesn't talk, doesn't eat. She barely breathes. And… and she gets this look. It's almost terrifying, if you look closely."

"What else?" Sam asked, sensing the nurse was hiding something.

Clare shrugged. "She speaks riddles. Or at least, it's nothing that makes sense. Sometime she's coherent enough so that… she begs for help sometimes. Begs us to… sometimes she begs us to 'end her'. It's a shame too. She was getting better."

"What happened?" Dean asked, not taking his eyes off Ella.

Clare shrugged again. "No one really knows. Just one night, she went into that waking coma, and when she came out of it, she was different. She used to be… well, almost rational. All the time." She looked at them both. "Do you want to go in now?"

Dean nodded, and Clare opened it. Before the elder could enter the room though, Sam pushed his way in, not needing guidance anymore. He knew Ella was sitting on her bed, and that there was nothing else in the room.

He squatted in front of her, but she didn't appear to recognise that he was there. He frowned as he studied her. Or studied her… he wasn't sure what to call it. Her essence, maybe.

She was frightened. She was a little angry. And she was distant. It was more distant than anyone Sam had ever felt from someone before. It was like she wasn't even really there.

Dean walked in slowly, standing by the door though, in order to let Sam do his thing. The nurse watched from outside. Ella had to be in her forties, nearly fifty, but so fragile looking she almost appeared in her sixties. She had thin, greying hair, limp and oily, while her green eyes were more distant than even Sam's sightless ones.

"Ella?" Sam asked gently, trying to find something more of her in the shell of her body. Her name seemed to work, sort of, and she came closer to him. Or, that feeling of disconnection lessened at least.

"Ella, we need your help," he continued slowly, talking as he would to a timid five-year-old. "I know you probably don't want to talk about it. But we need to know. What happened to you?" He knew it was blunt, and he knew he had to be careful, but she was so mentally unstable that he couldn't just manipulate her into telling everything.

There was nothing, but she didn't flee, or grow panicky, for which he was grateful.

"Please, Ella. You can help us. We need you to. I don't know what happened to you, but I want to stop it from happening to other people. I know you can help with that."

And then she turned to look at him. Her eyes rested on his, and that sense of distance disappeared.

"There was only blackness," she whispered to him. "For eternity, I lay in the dark, with no one to speak to, nothing to do but cry and hope. And soon even that fled, and I was alone."

Sam swallowed as she looked away, but she hadn't finished. Withdrawing, she began to mutter. He only just heard it, and it was directed at him.

"I never meant it," she whispered. "Help me, please. Save me from the darkness. Help me. I never meant it, and now I lay in darkness forever, condemned by good deeds. Help me."

Sam stood as she mumbled off into incoherent ramblings. He felt confused by this woman. He shook his head, frowning, and walked over to Dean. They both left the room and walked back to the nurse's station with Clare. The nurse was surprised.

"That's the most sense she's made in months," Clare told them. "How did you get through to her?"

Sam shrugged. "I don't know. I just spoke what I had to. It still didn't make much sense."

"No," the woman admitted. "But it's a start."

* * *

They questioned a few of the other nurses about Ella before they left, an hour after arriving. Or Dean questioned them, using his natural charm and good looks to lure information from them. Sam stood nearby, interrupting only when he thought it was necessary, and listening for the rest, to both their audio and their mind. He would know instantly if someone trying to deceive them.

They drove back to Richmond almost slowly, stopping at a roadside diner for dinner, and talking things through for the rest. However, when the sign appeared telling them that Richmond was three miles away, they still hadn't decided upon anything.

Sam told Dean everything he had garnered from Ella. "I think she suffered a terrible ordeal," Sam responded quietly to Dean's question of what he thought of the woman. "And I think her mind did the only thing it could think of in order to survive. She was… disconnected from everything. She only seemed to be 'all there' for a small amount of time. And I think that it happened because of what happened to her thirty years ago."

"And what, she hasn't healed herself yet?" Dean asked, clearly surprised by that. Sam shook his head.

"We have no idea what happened to her, Dean. How bad it really was. And obviously she doesn't know anymore that it's safe. The mind's a powerful tool." His own mind was the perfect example of that.

It was much later, after they had stopped at the diner for dinner, and as they were nearing Richmond that Dean finally asked the question that desperately needed to be answered.

"So, what do you think it is?" the older hunter asked. Sam shrugged.

"I think it's a spirit, of some kind. Creatures leave trails, they leave evidence. The only thing we have to go on is the drag marks." He sighed. "I think we need more to go on though. I mean, it probably is the spirit of Wain, but we need to find out why he suddenly appeared at the start of this year."

It was dark by then, the night aided by the growing winter. Dean nodded. "You're right. We need more information. So, how do we get it?"

Sam sighed again. "Same way as usual. Researching the town. See if anything would have disturbed his grave, or his spirit. Research the victims, of both sets. Just research." He felt his hand fist as he felt the frustration that he couldn't help at that. Dean had been right, all those months ago in Jericho, California. He was a control freak, especially when it came to research. He had just been doing it so long he now found it hard to rely purely on what others told him.

Dean, too, seemed uncomfortable at the mention of research. But all discomfort was soon lost as Sam suddenly sat up straight, going white.

"We're on West Road, aren't we," Sam said tightly. With a start, Dean realized he was right. He didn't get the chance to affirm it though.

"Hurry," Sam abruptly spat. Dean was shocked to find it vehement with fear. He did as told, giving his brother frequent worried looks.

"What is it Sam?" he asked as he pushed the accelerator down near the floor. Sam just shook his head.

It didn't matter anyway. A few seconds later, Dean looked around from checking on his little brother and saw the car parked on the side of the road. It was only as he came to a skidding halt behind the car that he noticed the man. The pale man who was dodging something Dean couldn't see.

Suddenly realizing this man was being attacked by a spirit, Dean jumped from his seat, barely getting the door open in time. Sam wasn't far behind, but the younger man was impeded as he ran into the car between them and the would-be-victim. Dean lost visual of him as he ran to the man, who had just fallen to the ground.

The older hunter picked the groaning man up, and then gave a gasp of surprise.

"Hayden?" he asked incredulously, though he easily recognised the man now. It was just that they seemed to be bumping into each other in the most unusually suspicious ways.

"You!" Hayden gasped, peering at him from under a bleeding cut above his right eye. The stare lasted barely an instant, because then he started looking behind Dean, a terrified expression painted on his pale face. "Watch out!"

Dean spun, keeping Hayden behind him. Only, nothing was there. He smelt the ozone, and it was obvious something was there. He searched frantically with his eyes, but to no avail. The ghost just wasn't visible.

To him.

Hayden near on screamed. "Get away from me!" he yelled, barely drawing breath after the wordless cry. "Get away!"

Dean's eyes bounced around, but he had no clue where to focus. "Goddammit, Hayden! Where is it?"

The answer was a resounding blast from a shotgun. There was a shriek that seemed to come from no where, and then Hayden screamed again. Only the scream was cut short, an instant after Dean felt a cold shiver pass through his body. And then he felt Hayden fall, unconscious, to the ground.

Dean stood up straight, breathing for the first time. He looked around to where Sam stood, by the front of Hayden's car. The shotgun was in his hand, which hung by his side. He was grinning slightly.

"I guess I got it," he stated mildly. Dean gave a slight grin too, albeit a slightly forced one.

* * *

They took Hayden straight to Richmond's hospital, unsure of what was wrong with him, besides the likely concussion from the gash on his forehead. Dean heaved a sigh of relief when he realized something.

"Well, now we have a survivor who isn't crazy," he told Sam, giving Hayden a worried look where the man lay in the backseat.

Sam nodded. "He should be able to tell us all about it. Given the ghost didn't do anything to him when it passed through him."

Dean frowned. "What do you mean, passed through him?"

"After I shot it, it kinda… I don't know. It shrieked, and then it sailed through you first, and then Hayden, and then Hayden passed out."

Dean remembered the cold shiver, and then gave another one. Sam's abilities again. Of course. The kid was blind, he wouldn't have been able to shoot the thing without it. Of course, if he hadn't been blind, maybe he couldn't have done anything either. The ghost had been invisible to all but its victim.

They pulled into the parking lot, and Dean carried Hayden into the building. In short order, the man had been taken away for scans, and Sam and Dean were sitting in the nearly empty waiting room. Dean checked his watch. Nearly nine. The cops would be here soon, to ask them questions about Hayden. Like them, they would need to question the man to find out what had happened. To secure any leads.

Suddenly Dean sat up straighter, turning to Sam. "Hey, can you handle the cops, when they come?"

Sam didn't even turn. He had begun to stop doing that, not out of will, but because he knew there was nothing to see if he turned his head. He did turn some of the time. Just not usually.

"Why? Where are you going?"

"I'm going to go out to West Road, see if there is any of our kind of evidence."

Sam nodded; it was a good idea. "But what do I tell the cops, about where you are? It's going to be kind of obvious that I wasn't the one to drive him in."

Dean shrugged, standing. "Tell them I had to go pick something up, or something. Tell them I dropped my wallet when we found Hayden. I'll be as quick as possible, so tell them I'll be right back."

Sam nodded. "Okay, go."

Dean nodded back, and exited, leaving Sam alone. However, he noted with relief, that he didn't feel at all panicky at that. He knew he would sense any danger long before it actually got close enough to hurt him. Just like he had done with that spirit. He still didn't know who it was, or why it was doing what it was doing, but he knew that he could stop it from hurting anyone. And that was enough to ease the fear.

* * *

No offence to anyone who says nought. Hell, even I say it sometime. I just don't think Dean would.


	6. Chapter 6: Taken

**Disclaimer:** Not mine, says I.

**Author's Note:** Again, sorry there wasn't a post yesterday. I was busy, things to do, people to see. But here's the next chapter. I hope you like it!

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Chapter 6: Taken

Dean drove as fast as he dared back to where he remembered Hayden's car was. He got there in what he assumed was record time, and parked so his headlights illuminated the area just in front of Hayden's car.

He looked over the area twice, but found little that could help him. There were only two sets of footprints – his and Hayden's. And the spirit-dodging had obscured any helpful prints that could point to what had caused Hayden to pull over, get out, and then run about trying to keep away from a spirit.

He sighed and got back in the Impala, turning the car towards the hospital. He resumed driving along West Road, thinking desperately about what he and Sam could be up against.

He was nearly off West Road when he saw the car. It was a classic, a Mustang unless he was mistaken. And his stomach did a flip as he had the thought that the spirit had found someone else that night.

Then he sighed with relief as he saw the woman leaning against the open hood. Steam was pouring from the front, and he realized she had broken down.

He slowed down, intent on helping her, and pulled over, coming to a stop a few metres behind the Mustang. From here, Dean could see the wariness on the woman's face.

He got out, a charming smile fixed on his face. But he didn't move from the side of his car.

"Car troubles?" he asked, holding up his hands in a subconscious attempt to show her he held no weapon.

She studied him for a moment, her green eyes piercing. For an instant, Dean swore he recognised them. But then she nodded, biting her lip, and he was only thinking about helping her again.

"I know a bit about cars," he told her. "Mind if I take a look?"

Her face broke out in relief, and she nodded again. "That would be great, thanks." She moved around to the front as Dean walked forward slowly. He didn't want to startle her.

He gave her a once over as he bent to study the classic. She wasn't the sort of woman he would pick up, but she seemed… fragile, eager, and gentle. She was plump, but tall so she looked thinner. And her eyes were intriguing. He had to shake them from his mind as he turned his attention to the car.

"Looks like you busted your radiator," he told, his voice clear even though he was bent over the engine. The thought didn't cross his mind though. "You'll need a new one. There should be a place in town…"

He trailed off as a strange scent reached his nose. He paused, sniffing once before going still.

Ozone.

He had barely recognised it before he a white flash passed over his sight, and he fell, groaning. To the ground.

The black Mustang disappeared as he fell through it, and he cursed himself for being so stupid. But then, he felt something hit his head again, and instead of white he saw the black of unconsciousness.

* * *

"Mr Winchester? I'm Sergeant Emily Holtz, and this is Constable Ben Jones."

Sam mentally sighed as he felt the two officers approach. Time to play the game, telling as many lies as he could while making it seem close to the truth and plausible. Sam hated it.

Shaking off his thoughts, the hunter stood. "Call me Sam."

The woman seemed suspicious. "You're the one who found Mr Lee?" she asked. Sam nodded.

"Yes, me and my br- cousin, Dean." Bloody shapeshifter.

Jones looked around. "Where is he?"

"He dropped his wallet somewhere, and he had to find it," Sam lied smoothly. "He should be back soon though."

Holtz nodded. "What happened tonight?"

Sam and Dean had already come up with the story, before Dean had seen the need to go back out to West Road. Now Sam recited it, making it sound natural. After spending much of his life living outside the law, he found it easy.

"We were driving back from Collingwood, along West Road when we saw Hayden's car parked on the side of the road."

"Hayden?" Holtz cut in. "You know him then?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah, my cousin met him at the bar, and we met in Atlanta before that. Only briefly. And we didn't know it was his car when we pulled over.

"We got out the car. Dean did it quicker, and he reached Hayden first. He told me while we were in the car that he saw a dark shape disappear into the forest. Hayden was only conscious for about half a minute before he passed out, he didn't tell us anything."

"Did you see this dark shape, Mr Winchester?" Jones asked, having ignored Sam's original request to call him by his first name. And obviously the man was blind as well, having not seen the cane leaning against the wall.

Sam felt his chin rise. "It's a bit hard for me to see anything, Constable, being blind and all."

He knew the man flushed with embarrassment and wished he could have seen the look on Jones' face. He got enough satisfaction from the sudden discomfort rolling off the policeman though.

"Is that all?" Holtz asked after a moment. She seemed uncomfortable too.

Sam shook his head. "Obviously I didn't see anything. That's everything I know."

The cops nodded simultaneously, and thanked him for his time after telling him to tell Dean to give them a call. Sam stayed silent as they walked away.

Then he sat back down, sighing. He wished he knew what time it was. Dean had been gone for a fair time. Maybe half an hour. How long would it take to get back to where Hayden's car was, search the area, and then get back? Sam wasn't sure. He sighed and slumped in the chair. A minute later he sat up straighter as he felt a woman approach.

"Mr Winchester?" It was a nurse. Sam stood, nodding.

"How's Hayden?" he asked.

"He's fine, and awake," she told him, smiling. "A mild concussion, and a few scratches, but nothing at all life-threatening."

Sam sighed with relief. "Can I see him?" he asked.

The nurse looked around, wavering with indecision. Then she nodded. "Sure. I'll have someone lead you to his room. I'll send your cousin up when he gets back."

Sam thanked her with a warm smile, and ten minutes later he gave another nurse another one, before he knocked and walked into Hayden's room.

The hospital was empty enough that Hayden had his own room. The man looked up as Sam navigated his way to beside the bed. He frowned as Sam struggled to locate and sit down on a chair.

"You know, I just can't figure you out," Hayden said before Sam could even ask how he was. "I mean, it's obvious you're blind, because you have trouble with even walls. But then tonight…" He trailed off, shaking his head. "I don't get it."

"How are you?" the young hunter asked quietly, ignoring the observations. Hayden shrugged.

"I have a headache. Apart from that, I'm just peachy. Oh, and something attacked me, but it was something a blind man could shoot even though his perfect-visioned brother couldn't even see it."

He sounded scared. Sam lifted an eyebrow. "Perfect-visioned? Is that even a saying?"

Hayden shrugged, giving a weak grin. "Who knows. But… what happened tonight? And how come you keep on showing up? Every time I turn around, there you are."

Sam sat back, putting up his hands in defence. "Hey, I swear, you're the one that keeps on bumping into me. But what actually happened?" he asked. "I mean, what did you tell the cops?"

Hayden grinned ruefully, though Sam didn't actually see it. "That's two different answers there Sam. You want to know what happened? Or what I told the cops?"

"What happened, really?"

"I'm not really sure. I mean…" He trailed off again, frowning this time. Then he sighed. "I was driving home. Then I saw this car parked on the side of the road. I was a little nervous at first, after Steve and the others… but then I saw this woman leaning against the side of the car. And then I saw… thought she saw that she had broken down. I mean, there was steam coming from under the hood and everything."

He sighed again, looking up at Sam. "I stopped, and got out. I asked her if she needed some help. She said she did. I took a look. I have no idea why. I mean, I don't even know that much about cars, but I looked anyway. It was like I was compelled to.

"She looked with me. I was sure she did. But one minute she was there, the next, she just disappeared. I looked around, but she just… vanished. And then I turned around again, and the car had vanished too."

He stopped talking then, having difficulty grasping the concept. He shook his head again. "I mean, I _thought_ it had disappeared. But that's impossible. I mean, something can't just disappear. Cars can't just disappear. There has to be some reasonable explanation."

"Yeah, there is," Sam interrupted quietly. "It disappeared."

Hayden snorted. "You're nuts."

"Think about it. You know, deep down, that you can trust your mind. You're… social beliefs are just telling you that you can't."

"So, how'd it disappear?" the older man asked.

"What happened next?" Sam asked as an answer. Hayden sighed after a moment.

"I looked around, wondering what had happened. I thought I was going nuts. But then I saw something flash out of the corner of my eye. I turned, just in time to see… a crowbar I think it was, I saw it coming at me. I tried to dodge, but still got hit." He motioned at the stitches above his brow. "I was almost knocked out, but I got up. And then your brother was there."

Sam nodded. He knew the rest. Well, most of it. "What about the spirit who attacked you? What did it look like?"

"Spirit?" Hayden asked incredulously. Then he groaned. "Dammit, why the hell did it pick me? Spirits. That's just not something a grown man should believe in."

"Well, believe in it, because it almost got you tonight. Now, what did it look like?" Sam felt disgruntled at Hayden's assumption and couldn't keep the anger out of his voice.

Hayden shook his head. "It was the same woman who was by the car. The one who had broken down." He shook his head again. "I thought she needed help, and I was just trying to be nice. Why'd she attack me?"

Suddenly it hit Sam. "Of course," he whispered to no one in particular. "That's how she lures them in. Gets them to pull over. Hang on." He turned to Hayden, confused. "She? Not a he?"

Hayden shook his head. "No, definitely a she."

So it couldn't be Jeff Wain then. But who? One of his victims, maybe. Only Ella had survived, which meant there could have been plenty of restless, vengeful spirits waiting. He groaned silently. That could be one of… hell, he wasn't even sure how many. Once Dean got back, they would have serious research to do.

Dean. Sam gave a start as he realized his brother had been gone for far too long. "What's the time?" he asked Hayden.

The man checked his watch. "Nearly ten o'clock. Why?"

Sam frowned, not answering as he got his phone out. He called Dean, and felt a thrill of fear as the line continued ringing. He also felt the blood drain from his face.

What is it?" Hayden asked. Sam was saved from answering by a knock at the door.

He didn't turn, knowing immediately who it was and feeling the fear take a stronger grip on his stomach as the two cops from before walked in.

Jones stayed by the door, while Holtz walked around to the other side of the bed so as to be facing Sam. They were both incredibly grim.

"What is it?" Sam asked breathlessly, afraid of the answer.

"I'm sorry, Mr Winchester. Your brother's car was found, abandoned, on West Road. There were signs of a struggle. We believe he's been taken."

* * *

I know, Dean again. Guy can't seem to catch a break. Thanks for reading!


	7. Chapter 7: Separated

**Disclaimer:** Dumdididumdida. I think you get the drift.

**Author's Note:** Thanks to everyone who's been reviewing! I have been replying, just in case it isn't just my email thingy not working. And every word is much appreciated! This next chapter is for you all!

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Chapter 7: Separated

The officers left after five minutes of explaining some of the things they knew. To Sam it was a time of quick thinking, and of ignoring what Holtz had to say. He had already figured most of it out anyway.

After the cops left, Hayden turned to Sam. "Why'd he get taken? Why'd I get attacked? What the hell is happening, Sam?"

He still sounded scared, whereas at that moment Sam felt numb. Dean had been taken. This could be bad. He couldn't even get back to the motel to get all his stuff to research… hell, he couldn't even research. He couldn't use the computer, or read their father's journal, or anything. Besides that… he needed Dean. He was blind. And even after two months of it, he couldn't walk properly, or at least, not without walking into anything without a consciousness.

"Sam!"

Hayden's voice cut in, and the young hunter realized he had been ignoring the man.

"Sorry, I was thinking. What did you ask?" Sam tried to get his mind back on the job. He had to find Dean. _Again_, he thought somewhat ruefully. Dean could never again call him the damsel. At least this time his brother hadn't been taken because of him.

"Why'd your brother get taken?" Hayden asked, carefully scrutinising the younger man.

"I think because he's a good person. I mean, after what you described tonight, I'm guessing is that this spirit is luring people by pretending to be broken down on the side of the road. Nice people stop, she attacks them."

She. So, not Jeff Wain. It had to be one of his victims. He needed to see… have someone read to him that victim list. The one that was back at the motel. The motel he couldn't reach.

"So, why? Why's she doing it?" Hayden asked next. Sam just shrugged.

"I'm not really sure. I think she was one of the victims of Wain. The guy back in 1976, who kidnapped all those people," he added, seeing Hayden's blank face. "And she's re-enacting his past crimes. What I can't figure out though, is why. And why she started now, years after she was killed. It doesn't make any sense."

"Are spirits supposed to make sense?" Hayden asked dryly. Sam nodded.

"Always. More so than humans."

"So what are you going to do about it? I mean, I'm assuming you and Dean are… ghost busters of some kind, after you made her disappear tonight. Are you going to stop these attacks?"

"I will, because stopping them gets Dean back." Somehow, he had to do it. By himself. This was going to be difficult.

"What if Dean's already… what if Steve…" The man couldn't complete the question, suddenly so forlorn that it could have broken Sam's heart if the thought of being too late hadn't already.

"No, they'll be alive. The survivor of Wain, Ella Fitzgerald? She wasn't found until months after she disappeared. So Wain kept them alive, and this spirit will too." He said it firmly, desperately needing to believe it himself.

"Doing what to them?" the older man asked with horror.

"I don't know," Sam admitted quietly. "But they're alive, nothing else matters."

"So, what do we do?"

We? Sam smiled with relief at the insinuation, having realized he would need help for this, and that Hayden was the only one in town to believe him after what he had experienced.

"When they release you from here, we need to get back to mine and Dean's motel room. And we need to get the car back. It's got some… stuff that we'll need. When are you getting out of here?"

"Not until tomorrow morning," Hayden told him dejectedly. "Man, I hate hospitals."

"Welcome to the club," Sam retorted, standing. "I have to go. Besides I think that nurse is getting a bit anxious about me in here. I'll see you tomorrow morning." He gave the man directions.

"Are you going to be right to get back?" Hayden asked cautiously. Sam just nodded and left.

* * *

Dean was never sure how long he had slept for. All he knew, for a long while, was the darkness of sleep, of unconsciousness.

Some time later he began to wake. Slowly, very slowly, noticing small things one at a time. The first thing Dean was aware of was the thumping in his head. It was dull, but painful, and he felt himself wincing at the rhythmic drumming on his brain.

That was the first thing. Next he noticed the cold. It was freezing, wherever he was. It was cold, and dank, and he felt himself shivering.

He gave a groan and moved his head. It was then he realized he was lying down on cold stone. It wasn't smooth, and it was so cold it almost felt wet. And he had no clue why he was lying on it.

As a matter of fact, he didn't have much of a clue about anything. That was the next thing he realized. He strained his head, trying to remember, but that made the beat of the drums in his head become faster, and he quickly gave it up as the pain increased as well.

He still wanted to know where he was. And why. He groaned again, rolling over. His awareness was becoming sharper as he clawed his way into consciousness. He opened his eyes.

Or he thought he did. He blinked, making sure his eyes were actually open. But the intense darkness remained, boring into his eyes. He rolled onto his back, stifling another groan as he moved his head. But he ignored the pain, made himself ignore it, as he lifted his head and waved his hand in front of his eyes. Nothing. He couldn't see it at all. He moved his hand closer to his eyes, but still, there was just nothing there.

He felt the first flitters of panic. He blinked again, slower, more forcefully, but the pitch black surroundings were still there. Swallowing, he waved his hands around, but the darkness wasn't due to small confines.

"Hello?" he called out, softly, not realizing that he was worried about calling attention to himself. He had no idea what was out there. Or where out there was.

He swallowed again, then called out again, louder this time. "Sammy? Sam? Anyone?"

There was nothing. He stilled his heavy breathing, trying to relax. And then he listened. The world was so quiet that the silence seemed to press in on him. He listened for as long as he could bear, until the silence threatened to burst his eardrums. And then he began breathing again, long, deep draws of air, stale air that he hadn't noticed was stale before.

There was nothing in the room with him. "Hello?" he called out again. The bounce confirmed to Dean that he was in a small room, made of stone, like the floor in all likelihood.

He sat up, wincing as his head pounded viciously. He put a hand gently to the back of his head; it came away wet, and sticky. Blood. He winced, this time not from pain, but from expectation. Something had hit him hard, in the back of his head. Twice, if he remembered correctly.

Ah yes, now it was coming back to him. The crowbar to the back of the head. The ghost pretending to be broken down on the side of the road. The ozone. He couldn't believe he hadn't smelled until just before the ghost had jumped him. He couldn't believe the ghost had jumped him at all.

He groaned as he put a hand to the back of his head again. Whether or not that crowbar had been real, it had hurt like hell. If he was bleeding, he had to have done some damage.

His hand paused as an unwelcome thought crossed his mind. Who knew what damage it had done. Maybe…

Maybe that was why he was in the dark. Maybe it wasn't the room. Maybe it was his eyes. Or his head. But maybe…

Maybe he was blind.

The thought sent another thrill of fear through him. He swallowed heavily, getting to his feet slowly. He kept his hands above his head, unsure of where the ceiling was. He managed to stretch to full height without touching it. If he stood on his tiptoes, his fingertips just scraped the stone roof.

He swallowed his fear and let his hand drop. And then he began to stumble forward, hands out in front of him like a mummy in a movie, walking with a jolting step. Five steps later, his hands ran into the wall.

For some reason that calmed him slightly, though he had to close his eyes tightly to stop the darkness boring in on them. Then, shaking his head, he opened them and began to trace his way around the room. There had to be a way out of the darkness.

Only five minutes later he had gone around the room twice, and there was nothing. No cracks, no door, no break at all in the unrelenting black stone. He swallowed, feeling yet more fear. There was no way out.

* * *

I know, short chapter. Thanks for reading!


	8. Chapter 8: Ella's Help

**Disclaimer:** I'm only playing.

**Author's Note:** Again, thanks to those reviewing! And now, chapter 8. Only three more after this one, and then the end!

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Chapter 8: Ella's Help

Sam woke at a knock at the door. He groaned, rolling over and wishing the person at the door would go away. But no, the knocking came again, intruding on his much wanted sleep.

He stood, not even bothering to open his eyes to remove the grit of sleep from them. And then he stumbled towards the door.

"Get in, Hayden," he told the startled man as he opened the door. Hayden grinned and stepped in. Sam half-slammed the door behind him.

"So, not a morning person, Sam?"

The Winchester in question stumbled to the bathroom. There, he washed his face before answering.

"I didn't get much sleep. The neighbours are… noisy," he told the man. Feeling better, he walked back into the room.

"Just let me get changed and then we can get ready."

He grabbed some clothes and returned to the bathroom. Hayden started the conversation from behind the closed door.

"What do we need to do?"

"We need to narrow down the list of victims from 1976 who could be our spirit. And then we need to find out why any of them would have woken this year."

"Woken?" Hayden asked. "You mean, like a zombie?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Yes, Hayden, a zombie attacked you and then disappeared into thin air. Don't you watch the movies?" He opened the door, fully dressed. "Trust me, if that had been a zombie, you probably would be dead already. No, what attacked you is a restless spirit. What we have to find out is why it's restless."

"After we find out who it is," Hayden confirmed.

Sam nodded. It was time to begin. The wish that Dean were here roared into life with a strength he almost couldn't bear. Together they were a great team. Being apart usually ended badly. Very badly.

"So, on the desk, there should be a pile of papers. One of them is the list of victims from 1976. Grab it and find all the women."

Sam sat down on his bed as Hayden searched for the paper. He found it a moment later.

The man scanned through it quickly. And then he frowned. "Ah, Sam, I think we have a problem."

"What?" the hunter asked, wondering what on Earth could be the problem.

Hayden looked up. "There was only one female victim. Ella Fitzgerald."

Sam had grabbed the paper before he remembered he couldn't read it. "What!" he said again, more forcefully this time. "But that's impossible. The spirit will look like its body. Or it should. It would keep the sex, anyway."

He frowned, running a hand through his hair. Then he turned to Hayden. "The spirit, what did it look like?" he asked, glad Dean had described Ella to him.

Hayden shrugged. "It's hard to remember. I know it was definitely a girl. Um, green eyes, brown hair… what?"

His question was at Sam's suddenly still face. The younger man shook his head. "We need to go see Ella."

* * *

Dean sat in the corner, shivering with the cold and, though he would never admit it, fear. His arms were wrapped around his knees, his back and butt sore, near numb, after sitting in the same spot on the uneven ground for a long time. But he was glad of them, because if he lost that sense of touch with the ground he began to feel like he was floating.

He still couldn't see anything. He was petrified that he had lost his sight. Terrified that he would never see anything again. He had tried so many times to see his hand as he waved it in front of his eyes, but there was nothing. Just space. He had felt around his eyes, but he couldn't find any swelling.

And now he was hungry. And thirsty. And so very cold. He hugged his legs tighter, feeling incredibly lost.

He leaned his head back against the rock, shutting his eyes tight. It had become a ritual, every ten or so minutes when the dark became too much. He would close his sightless eyes tightly, keep them that way for a minute or so, and then shake his head, opening his mind back up to the black stone cell.

He shivered, trying to get some warmth back into his limbs. He was so tired. He had no idea how long he had been in the dark for, but it was far too long. He was going to go mental if he was here any longer.

He shifted slightly, feeling the cold weighing him down, making the exhaustion so much worse. He closed his eyes, not from the weight of the darkness on his eyes but from simple and pure weariness. He just needed to sleep.

"Hurry up, Sammy," he muttered as fell into unconsciousness.

* * *

"I'm sorry, sir, but you can't see her. Not today," the nurse, Clare, told him firmly. But Sam hadn't, and wouldn't, take no for an answer.

"Please. She can help us solve this case. I know she can. Please, just let me speak to her!"

Clare frowned. "No. She's taken a turn for the worse. She's…" The nurse trailed off, sighing and shaking her head.

"What?" Sam asked. "What's happened to her?"

Clare looked around. "Last night, she fell into one of those waking comas. Like usual, we couldn't get her to respond. And then she… she just jerked awake, screaming and clutching her chest. She was screaming about rocksalt, of all things, and failure, or something. She was shouting about men with guns, or men who interrupted her in something. And then an hour later she fell into another waking coma, and was in it for a few hours."

Sam was silent for a moment. That fitted with what had happened with the spirit last night. Right down to the rocksalt. He could feel Hayden's disbelief from where the man stood behind him.

"When did these waking comas start?" Sam asked quietly. Clare seemed a little surprised at the question. She answered after a moment of thinking.

"Start of February, I think." She began nodding. "Yes, it was the night after we had the blackout."

"Blackout?" Sam questioned.

Clare nodded. "Yeah. It was totally unexpected. It was the night before Ella's first waking coma. We were in almost complete darkness for a few hours."

He remembered Ella's windowless room. "What about the rooms, where the patients are? Wouldn't they have been in complete darkness?"

Claire gave a small jerk. "Yes, you're right. Well, the ones without windows."

"Like Ella," Sam confirmed. Everything was beginning to make sense. Maybe it wasn't so impossible. He wondered when he would begin to realize that nothing was impossible in the supernatural world.

Clare nodded, suspicious. "Yes, I suppose. What are you getting at?"

Sam shook his head. "Nothing. Look, I know you only have Ella's best interest at heart," he said, getting back to why they had come to Collingwood in the first place. "But I really need to speak to her. I promise I won't do anything to harm her. I'll keep her calm, I swear. Please, just let me talk to her."

After a moment of silence, Clare sighed. "Fine. Don't tell anyone, but fine. Come with me."

Sam followed the nurse down the corridor, and Hayden followed them both. This time they didn't pause at the door to talk, but Clare unlocked it straight away. Sensing Ella sitting crouched in the corner, he made his way there, glad the room was bare.

He squatted in front of her, keeping a slight distance. She still had the disconnected feeling, but it wasn't as bad as before. Sam thought he knew what that was about now. She was disconnected. Her mind, or her spirit, left her body. He guessed that it was due to some mental torture she had endured while Wain had her. So, to survive, her mind had distanced itself from her body. It was something he and Dean did to ignore pain in a hunt. Only she had gone so much further with it.

"Ella?" he asked softly, forgetting his assumptions for the moment. Though he was sure it was her spirit taking everyone, he still didn't know where she was taking them. And he really needed to find Dean. He didn't want his brother to end up like Ella.

She turned slowly at his voice, looking directly at him. He could feel her gaze, even if he couldn't see it. It was the only part of her that seemed intense enough to be living. Now anyway.

"Ella," Sam repeated. "Please, help me." He lowered his voice so that Clare wouldn't hear. "Ella, where do you take them? Where did Wain take you?"

She flinched at something, and then seemed to become more panicky. However, when she spoke, it betrayed none of her inner turmoil.

"It's not me. I can't help it. I only watch as I inflict it on others." She seemed more confident in what she was saying this time, as if she knew he would believe her. "Please, forgive me. I can't stop myself from leaving my mind. And then I go, and I take them to where he took me. Darkness, loneliness, just nothing. So long, for an eternity…"

She trailed off, mumbling incoherently. Not that Sam had understood her last words anyway.

"Ella," he tried again. "Where do you take them? Please tell me."

She shook her head, the first sign of her agitation coming through in her tight movement. "I can't tell you. I can see it, always see it, as I ran, fleeing the darkness."

"Where, Ella?" Sam asked firmly, leaning forward. "Where?"

She shook her head again. "I can't tell you. But I can show you."

And then, before he could even move to get away, her arm snaked out and latched onto his head. He tried to move away, but she grabbed his hair. He could hear Clare and Hayden rushing in, but before they could even get three steps, something flashed before his eyes.

He gasped, seeing something for the first time in two months. Only, it wasn't the room, or any of his surroundings that he saw.

It was a forest, going on for miles in every direction. He walked forward, taking a many steps in one, and then he was staring at the entrance to a mine. Long abandoned, the entrance would have been boarded up a while ago, going by the rotting planks on the ground before –

He gasped as his hair came free from Ella's grasp, opening his eyes. The darkness was terrible after the vivid vision he could only assume Ella had given him. He fell back onto his palms, jarring his wrists.

And then Hayden was dragging him back, frightened, while Clare was checking on Ella, who had once more become docile.

"What happened?" Hayden asked.

Sam shook his head. "I don't know. She just grabbed me." Of course, he knew what had happened – though how still eluded him – but he wasn't about to just spill all in front of the nurse who more than likely had no belief of the supernatural.

That same nurse, having made sure her patient was okay, turned on both of them in a cold fury.

"You should leave." Her tone let them know it was no suggestion. "Now."

They all but scurried out of the hospital, back to Hayden's car. The older man had wanted to drive the Impala, at least further than back to the motel, but Sam had refused. It was Dean's car, and it was Dean who chose who drove it, unless it was an emergency. Sam had chucked a few things into Hayden's trunk however.

"So, what was that?" Hayden asked as they began the long drive back to Richmond in the rain.

"She showed me where she was taken, where Wain took her thirty years ago. And where she's taking her victims now." He sighed, knowing it would still be hard to find. "It's an abandoned mine. An old one." He could still remember the details clearly. And that moment of clarity would taunt him until he could see again. If he could ever see again. He felt the anger and frustration rolling in and turned his mind to explaining things to Hayden in order to ignore the emotions.

"Where's the nearest mine?" Sam asked. "I didn't even know it was a mining town."

Hayden shook his head. "It isn't. Or it hasn't been one for a long time. They only ever opened the one, but the people back then thought it was bad luck. People kept on disappearing, the tunnels kept on collapsing. There's only one tunnel remaining up there now, or at least one that's accessible. It's been the only one you can get into for the last fifty years."

"Then it must be the one," Sam said with relief. There wouldn't be an endless search for the right tunnel.

"Are you sure?" Hayden asked. Sam nodded.

"Positive." It had to be. Things had to be going right for the first time since they had come to this town.

"And is it Ella doing everything?" he asked, a harshness coming into his voice.

"Yes. But, I don't think she means it. Or, part of her doesn't."

The older man frowned. "What do you mean?"

The hunter sighed. "I mean, her mind…" He wasn't sure how to explain it. "You ever heard of astral projection?"

Hayden nodded. "It's one of those weird psychic things, yeah?"

"Yeah," Sam confirmed dryly, letting none of his irritation show. Hayden had no clue that he was insulting Sam with his words. "It's when your mind separates from your body. Your spirit basically goes for a walk without your body. I think that's what Ella's doing."

"So what, she's a psychic?" the other man asked, frowning slightly with disbelief, or distaste, Sam wasn't sure.

The hunter shook his head. "No, I don't think so. I think that when Wain kidnapped her, he did something to her, something so terrible that the only way she could deal with it was to ignore it so completely she actually detached a part of herself from her body."

"A part? What do you mean?"

"I mean… I think it's kind of like bipolar, or something. Part of her mind is in her body, dealing with the memory by not dealing with it at all. By being crazy, basically. The other part is dealing with it by inflicting the same thing on others. Sort of passing the pain onto others to make her own seem less."

"So why did she only just start this? I mean, wouldn't she, or the part of her that wants revenge anyway, wouldn't it have wanted it from the beginning?"

Sam shook his head. "She got revenge though. She killed Wain, and so killed that part of her. Or made it dormant again." Sam frowned. "She keeps on going on about darkness. Maybe that was what Wain kept them in. And then, there was that blackout. Her room's windowless, so she would have been in complete darkness. She would have been plunged back into that memory of being a captive, and the torment would have woken the part of her that's doing all this."

Hayden shook his head. "This is confusing," he told his passenger. "So, Wain kept them in the dark? Why's that so bad?"

Sam shook his head. "Remember, Ella wasn't found until months after she disappeared. She was probably in it for those months. In the dark, probably in the cold if it was in the mines. No one to talk to, nothing to do. It would have driven her mad. It's not easy living in the dark." And he knew it from personal experience.

Hayden sighed. "So what now?"

Sam grinned. "We go find Dean and Steve. Once we get back to the motel, we'll grab some things. And then we head for the mountains. Then we find a way to help Ella."


	9. Chapter 9: This Is It

**Disclaimer:** New Year's Resolution: try really hard to get my hands on the boys. As it's still 2006 (for the next 6 and a bit hours at least), I don't own them. I'm hoping I can add yet there soon.

**Author's Note:** Hey, Happy New Year's Eve everyone! I'm posting tonight, even though I know a lot of people won't read it until tomorrow. But that don't matter. What matters is that everyone has an awesome night!

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Chapter 9: This Is It

Dean woke with a start, gasping and opening his eyes. The darkness assaulted him, and for a moment he panicked, wondering where the hell he was and why everything was dark.

Then memory and thirst hit him at once. He groaned as he realized he was still in this horrible cell. And then coughed as the noise itched his dry throat.

He went to stand, feeling cramps beginning in his legs from being in the one position for so long. He got half way before the pain hit and he groaned again, wincing as he straightened his legs.

Standing, he traced his hand along the wall. It was uneven; the room wasn't even a square, but more as if someone had begun working on it and had then given up.

He licked dry lips with an only slightly wetter tongue. He wondered how long he had been down here. It felt like forever, drifting in and out of sleep. His head still hurt like hell, but at least it wasn't bleeding anymore. No, it had stopped that a long time ago. He wasn't sure how long ago. Now, the blood caked it, stuck in his hair and pulling if he moved too fast or far.

It was then that he heard it. A drip. Like a drop of water hitting the ground. He stopped moving, going completely still and waiting with bated breath.

There, again. A drop of water. Somewhere on the other side of the room. He moved quietly, keeping his hand on the wall, needing that small comfort of knowing where something was.

Again, the drip. He paused, wondering, hoping, he could get a better read on where it was. His heart sunk as he realized that it was nearer the centre of the cell.

The cell wasn't small, and the dark made it seem larger than it actually was. He swallowed, and then did so again as another drop of water tantalized his thirst. He needed a drink so badly, even one or two drops, but doing so would mean he would have to let go of the wall. Another drop made his decision.

Sighing, he let go of the wall and began stumbling away from it. He took jerky steps, pausing between each one to hear where the drip was.

A few terrible minutes later he was at the drip. He knelt, feeling along the floor for the drops that had already fallen. He could feel a shallow hole where it was, and he smiled with relief when he felt water.

He cupped his hands and picked up some of the water from the hole. It wasn't much, but he drank every bit he could. It helped, slightly, but he still needed more.

He stayed there, by the water, for some hours, or so he assumed. It was only when he hadn't heard a drip for some minutes that he dropped his hands, angry. He hadn't had enough. He was still thirsty. Maybe he wouldn't die of thirst soon, but the little he had had made everything seem worse. He needed more. He wanted more. He had to get out of here.

A dull pain in his hands was what told him he had hit the floor with his fists, and he looked down with mild surprise. And then he couldn't even handle that as he sat back, tired again.

He was so exhausted. So cold, so sick of the darkness. He needed… any sign that everything was going to be all right. That everything would be okay.

He sighed, closing his eyes tight as the darkness became too much once more. When he opened them, he got to his feet and walked jerkily back to the wall. It took longer than he had expected, and he could feel himself panicking as he thought he was lost in the dark room.

His hands touched the wall and he heaved with relief. And then realized what he had done.

He stood there, shocked that he needed that comfort of the wall so badly. He thought about it as he turned and slid down, hugging his knees close. It wasn't just to keep out the cold either. But the fear, the unease. The dark.

"God, Sammy, how do you do it?" he asked no one in a raspy, dry voice. He had never really questioned his little brother's strength before, but this was the first time he really appreciated it. Sam had to be so much stronger than him. Dean knew, without a doubt, that he couldn't live his whole life like this, in the dark. He would go mad, or become suicidal. Because this darkness was overwhelming and heavy, and no one should have to suffer it. Least of all his little brother.

* * *

"So, how exactly are we going to help Ella?"

Sam smiled as Hayden finally asked the question that had been bugging the older man since they had gotten back to the motel room that afternoon.

They were driving up to the old mine. Or Hayden was driving, Sam was telling him exactly what to do in what situation. It was moving towards evening, and Sam knew Hayden dreaded the idea of going into the mine at night. But Sam also knew that the older man would do anything for his brother.

Sam turned his attention back to Hayden's question. "I'm not one hundred percent sure, but I'm hoping that when her prisoners are released, it will release her as well."

"You hope?" Hayden asked, casting his eyes quickly in Sam's direction. The hunter nodded, sighing.

"Yeah, hope. I've never dealt with the spirit of an alive person before." Alive demon yeah, but that bastard had only been just alive _and_ had been possessing people, including Sam himself. "We can't do what me and Dean usually do with a restless spirit. Which is salt and burn the bones," he added, feeling Hayden's question before the man asked it. "Since Ella's alive, burning would be a very bad idea. So, I'm not sure how to put the spirit of an alive person to rest. Dean might have some answers."

Hayden shook his head. "How do you know about all this?" he asked. "About all this ghost stuff?"

Sam shrugged. "It's a family thing." And he refused to give anymore, no matter how hard Hayden pushed.

Maybe half an hour later they reached the end of the road. Hayden stopped, leaning forward to look out the front window. Then he sighed. "Looks like we have to walk from here," he told Sam.

Sam grimaced, but opened the door nevertheless. He heard Hayden doing the same, and traced his fingers over the car as he move towards the older man. He noticed Hayden notice.

"How do you do that?" the man asked as they began walking. Sam had the duffle bag over his shoulder.

"Do what?" the hunter asked, even though he knew what Hayden was talking about.

"Know where everything is, even though you can't see where it is? Are you really blind?" He kept on glancing sideways at Sam.

"Yeah, I'm really blind. But there are senses other than sight," he supplied. He didn't really want to go into it.

"Yeah, but what about with Ella? You knew exactly where she was. But you walked slowly, as if you were afraid to walk into things. And I've seen you walk into things in the motel room. But you always seem to know exactly where people. And you shot Ella's spirit, last night, knew I was hiding in the bushes... How do you do it?"

Sam frowned in annoyance. "You're observant, aren't you?"

Hayden shrugged. "In prison, you have to be. You get killed otherwise."

Sam pounced on the opportunity to change the subject. "So why were you in prison? What did you do?"

Hayden went still, though he kept on walking. After a moment he answered. "I don't want to talk about it."

Sam nodded "Likewise."

They kept on in uncomfortable silence for a while. Then Hayden sighed. "Me and a few others, we robbed a store in Collingwood. Only, the owner was still there. We didn't realize it until we heard the cops arriving. Then one of the others found him, and grabbed him. The cops arrived, and this guy used the owner as a shield. Pulled out his gun and threatened to blast the guy's brains if the cops didn't back off. They didn't, and he made good on his threat." He tried to say it without emotion, and managed, but Sam knew he was feeling guilty. Very guilty.

Sam shifted uncomfortably. He knew that Hayden telling him meant the older man expected a confession back. He waited for a moment, hearing Hayden shifting as well. Then the hunter sighed.

"I have these abilities. I don't know how, or why, but… I'm a psychic. I can't read minds," he assured Hayden, feeling the man's frantic suspicion. "But I sense enough to know where people are, and what they intend to do. Like if someone's lying, or happy, or, like Ella, disconnected."

Hayden was silent for a moment. "So even though you're blind, you still know where everything is."

Sam shook his head. "No, not things. I still walk into things, all the time. But living things. Or at least, beings, I suppose. Animate things."

Suddenly Hayden stopped. Then he swallowed, looking around at Sam. "I think we're here," he told the younger man.

Sam felt the first fluttering of nerves as he nodded. "Let's go, then," he told Hayden, taking a step forward.

He could tell when they entered the mine. The air became damp, colder, and he shivered, already missing the sun, even if it was setting. He grabbed a flashlight from the bag and handed it to Hayden. "We stick together, we go slowly." He grabbed a gun and held onto it himself. "And we shoot the spirit if it turns up."

Hayden nodded, taking the lead. Sam let his nerves stay on edge, knowing it would help his reflexes. He was ready to stop Hayden the moment he felt something.

They went on into the mine in total silence, feeling the oppression of the air and the weight of the roof bearing down on them. Sam realized he was holding his breath and let it go. Hayden was swallowing nerves every minute or so, until Sam couldn't help but grin where the older man couldn't see.

They reached a chamber a few quiet minutes later. It wasn't big, just bigger than the corridor. Sam stopped, listening intently, while Hayden broke away, looking around with the flashlight.

"So, did Ella manage to tell you where in the mine they were?" he asked in a whisper. It felt wrong to talk any louder. Sam shook his head.

"No. But if we follow the tunnel we should find it."

"Ah, problem," Hayden said. "There's two tunnels."

"Two?" Sam questioned. He sighed. "Of course there are. Because nothing's ever simple."

"Do we split up?" Hayden asked. Sam shook his head.

"No, I can't see what I'm walking into." Would the man ever get that through his head? "We stick together. Besides, I'm sure Ella's spirit will show up at some point."

He walked forward, towards Hayden, who was standing at the entrance to the tunnel on the right. He stood there for a moment, hoping for anything.

And then he smelt it. He grinned, moving away. "It's the other tunnel. Come on."

"How do you know?" Hayden questioned suspiciously. Sam looked uselessly back at him.

"Spirits give off an ozone smell. And this tunnel reeks of it."

Hayden sniffed. "Is that what that smell is? God your job is weird."

Sam gave a small chuckle at that. "You have no idea. Come on."

They began walking down the tunnel, following the smell of ozone on the air. Sam was relieved it was there. He just wished he could see everything as well. What if they passed something that Hayden missed? He hated relying on other people.

It was then that he sensed it. Or them. He stopped, grabbing onto Hayden's arm. The man jumped and turned, a curse coming from his mouth.

"Jesus, Sam, don't do that. You gave me a freaking heart attack!"

Sam ignored him. "What do you see?"

Hayden paused, turning slightly to shine the flashlight around. "Not much. This place would be pitch black if we didn't have the torch." He paused again, turning the other way. "We're in another chamber. Not much bigger than the tunnel though. And," he began, a hint of surprise coming into his voice. "We're at the end of the road."

"What about below us?" Sam asked, feeling a grin spread across his face.

After a moment, Hayden spoke up, the surprise still in his voice. "Trap doors." He was grinning too now. "Trap doors! Is this it?"

Sam nodded, relief coursing through him. "This is it."


	10. Chapter 10: Finding Freedom

**Disclaimer:** If wishes were kisses, I'd wish for a wish (thus a kiss) from Dean. Alas, I am still unkissed. Okay, so weirdo way of saying I don't own them.

**Author's Note:** Second Last Chapter. Hope you're all loving it, and thanks heaps to those who have reviewed. Happy New Year to all!

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Chapter 10: Finding Freedom

Dean wasn't sure what it was that woke him. He jolted awake, though he still didn't have the energy to open his eyes. He felt so tired. The hunger was gnawing at him, the thirst was rabid in the back of his throat. He was so cold. How long had he been down here?

And why had he woken? He didn't want to. He knew the answer to the first question though; forever. He had been stuck in the dark for eternity and he had accepted that no one was coming. The ghost had hidden him too well. He knew Sam would continue looking, would look for yet another eternity before dying himself. The world was doomed. But he had accepted it. He just wanted to die in peace now. Just let the exhaustion carry him into oblivion.

He smiled as he heard it. He didn't smile knowingly, and he didn't know who the voices belonged to, just that they were familiar and loving. Well, one was loving, and he ached for it. But he didn't know whose voice it was.

He shifted slightly, turning over in the corner he had settled himself in. But the voices wouldn't leave. Maybe they were here to take him away from this dreary, blind, cold place.

The voices came closer, and one of them tugged at him. He shifted again, wondering where he knew it from. It wasn't coming to him and he opened his eyes in frustration.

He jumped as he realized the world wasn't so dark. Afraid to accept relief, he waved a hand in front of his eyes. And then he laughed, silently, because his throat wouldn't let noise out.

He wasn't blind.

He had never been so relieved in his life, and then grief struck him, because his little brother would never feel the same relief. And then the tiredness came back, and he slumped, relief disappearing in the wake of resignation. No one was coming.

Then he frowned, knowing something was wrong with that thought. Where was the light coming from? He looked around but the walls were still black stone, jagged and cold. The light wasn't much, but it was there, it was, and he felt a surge of life come into him. He managed to look up.

There was a square outlined by light in the roof. He realized for the first time that he had to be underground. But it didn't matter, because by the way the light moved, someone was up there, swinging a flashlight.

"Down here!" he tried to cry. It came out as a croak, a very soft croak. He knew they would never be able to hear him.

He felt panic as he tried to push louder words out of his throat. "Hello! Down here! Please!"

The attempt sent him off coughing. But even those weren't loud at all, and he felt tears begin at the thought that sweet escape would be denied because he couldn't speak.

He looked up again as the coughs receded. "Help!" he tried to call out. And then the voices began again. He couldn't make out what they were saying, but it was in that instant that he recognised one of the voices. Joy and relief flooded him.

"Sammy!" he cried, somehow managing to speak louder. It was still little more than a croak.

And then the light began to grow dimmer. Sam was moving away, Dean realized. His mouth dropped in horror, and he tried to get to his feet, to get closer to the hatch above his head. But his limbs were frozen after ages in the same position, in the cold, in the dark. He could barely move, let alone get to his feet.

"No," he whispered. "No, no, no. Come back! Sammy!"

* * *

Hayden moved to the trap door at the end of the unfinished tunnel. Sam walked with him. There, Hayden dropped to one knee, taking a hold of the handle dug into the hatch. Sam took the light to illuminate Hayden's movements. The first hatch was opened.

A smell hit them immediately, and Hayden fell back, dry retching. Sam covered his nose, gagging slightly. Then he had to take a step back, shaking his head.

"Whoever was in here is long dead," he told Hayden as the man stood and came to stand next to him.

"How?" the older man asked, fear coming into his voice. "Ella survived months."

Sam felt a realization hit him and had to take another step back. "Yeah, but Wain was human, despite what he did. He must have fed them, given them water, to prolong what he was doing to them." He shook his head. "Ella's spirit is doing this, which can't just walk into a store and get them food. Hell, she probably puts them in the cell and then leaves them. She can't feed them."

"So, Steve's probably…" Hayden couldn't finish the sentence, his voice breaking.

"I don't know. Most of them will be, I think. But there's mud under our feet. So, I think water probably gets in, when it rains. But you can only go so long without food, so… Come on, we still have to check the rest." They moved away, going to the nearest hatch.

There were twenty hatches in total. Within five minutes they had looked through fifteen. In eleven, including the one they looked in first, they found more dead bodies, the stench wafting in and making the chamber stink. In the rest they found only skeletons, the remains of Wain's victims from thirty years ago. And so they moved onto the sixteenth hatch.

As Hayden lifted the door, Sam felt a surge of life from below him. He waited with bated breath, wondering if it was human, rather than… anything else. He knew it wasn't Dean. But maybe, just maybe, there were more survivors than just Dean. That his older brother would be alive, Sam didn't doubt. He couldn't doubt it.

Hayden lifted the hatch, and Sam shone the torch in the hole. They both heard movement, and Hayden peered in anxiously.

"Steve!" he shouted, relief making his voice break. Sam smiled, breathing again, thankful that the older man's brother had been found. But in what condition?

There was no answer from Steve as Hayden called again. This time the name had worry tinging it.

Sam put a hand on Hayden's arm. "It's okay. Or it will be. He's probably very dehydrated, cold, maybe a little sick from breathing unhealthy air. We get him to hospital, and he'll be fine."

He looked around. There were another four trap doors, he knew. He just had to find Dean's.

"Come on, we know where he is now. Help me find Dean, and then we'll get them both out."

Hayden nodded reluctantly, afraid to move from his brother lest he disappear once more. But he crawled away, moving to another hatch. Sam waited anxiously for the older man to open it.

That one too, was empty, but at the next one, Sam felt that same surge of life he had felt at Steve's cell. "It's this one," he told Hayden breathlessly. "Come on, open it!"

The door lifted and Sam shone the torch in. He felt Hayden heave a sigh of relief as the light fell on a living, breathing figure.

"Sammy?" he heard Dean's voice croak, so softly he almost didn't hear it. Sam broke out into relieved laughter.

"God, Dean, yeah, it's me. Thank God I found you. It's so good hearing your voice again."

"I thought you had left me," Dean whispered. The admission broke Sam's heart. But he could also hear the fever in his brother's voice.

"Never, Dean, never. Now hang on for just a moment while me and Hayden figure a way to get you out."

He turned to the older man. "He's not going to be able to get out by himself. How deep is it?" he asked, trying to think up a plan.

"Six and a half feet, maybe a little more. Not very deep," Hayden answered.

Sam nodded. "If I lower you down, can you help him? And then you can help me pull Dean up, then I can pull you up."

Hayden nodded. "Him first?" he asked, worry still in his voice. Sam nodded.

"Yeah. I don't think we'll be able to lift Steve out without hurting him. We should wait for the medics, just to make sure he's all right."

Hayden nodded once more, biting his lip. "Okay. Let's do this."

Sam leaned over the edge of the hole. "Dean! Hayden's coming down, and he's going to help you out."

There was a muttered reply that Sam couldn't understand. He wished desperately that he could see his older brother. See what was wrong, how he was.

Sam dropped the shotgun and Hayden lay down on the muddy ground, where Sam edged him over the lip of the hole in the ground. Slowly, slowly, he lowered Hayden over the edge.

It was hard, but Sam hadn't lost any of his strength with his sight. He gently let Hayden's hands slip through his own, laying down as Hayden dropped in.

"That's as far as I can go, Hayden," he called out to the man below.

"It's fine," the older man called back. "You can drop me."

Sam did so, letting Hayden's hands slip from his grip. There was a thud and a groan.

"How's he looking?" Sam asked. He heard shuffling from below.

"There's blood all over the back of his head." That meant concussion. Probably a pretty serious one. "And he's hot, but he's shivering." Fever. "And I think he's dehydrated."

Sam used one hand to feel about for the water bottle he had chucked into the bag before they had left. Grabbing it, he let it fall into the cell. "Heads up."

Hayden caught it and returned to Dean. Sam called out instructions from his position above them.

"Make him drink it slowly. Not too fast, and not too much." Hayden didn't answer verbally, and there was silence for a moment. Sam waited, holding his breath. When he couldn't take it any longer, he called out again.

"How is he?" he asked anxiously. Hayden never had a chance to answer.

None of them heard or felt it approach. Not even Sam, though his excuse was that he was worried about Dean to the point of distraction. All he knew was that one minute he was leaning over the hatch, the next he was hitting the wall of the tunnel and the spirit of Ella Fitzgerald was bearing down on him.

Not that he could see it coming, but he felt it this time. Only he had dropped the shotgun in the excitement of finding Dean. And now he was without a weapon as Ella attacked him.

He flew through the air again, landing hard on the ground and losing his glasses. He felt a snap in his shoulder and cried out with the pain of the dislocation. He had no clue where he was now, but he could hear Hayden shouting out from somewhere to his right. Only Hayden was down a hole with Dean. Sam was on his own.

He rolled over, holding his shoulder and groaning as he felt bruises beginning on his side. Goddamn stone. He hated mines.

He felt Ella coming at him again, and rolled to his feet. "Ella, stop!" he shouted, his cry echoing around the chamber. She kept on coming. "Please, Ella!"

He flew through the air again as his words didn't effect her. He hit another wall, falling to the ground with a cry. He rolled over again, wincing. He felt her bearing down on him once more.

"Ella!" he shouted desperately. He was sure he had cracked a rib already, besides his freaking dislocated shoulder! He couldn't take hitting any more rock. "I can help you!"

To his utmost relief Ella stopped, mere inches from him, or so he thought. He swore he could feel her breath on his face. Only he knew that spirits didn't breathe.

"Ella, please, you have to stop this," Sam begged. Ella's rage flamed again at his words. She shrieked, one long, terrible cry, and at the end of it, Sam found himself being held against the wall, pressure against his chest, his feet kicking rock two feet from the ground.

"I don't have to stop anything!" she screamed at him. "He sent me mad, took my life from me!"

"Yes, he did," Sam struggled to say. "But they're not him. They only wanted to help you. They don't deserve this. You didn't deserve this!"

She cackled at his words. "I only wanted to help him, too, you know. I thought I would be nice, stop and help the poor man stuck on the side of the road. And I spent the next eternity in darkness!" Her last sentence was screeched, full of pain and anger and fear that Sam couldn't help but be infected by. He felt it clench his chest.

"But you won't be in it any longer," he told her, pleading with her with his tone. "I know you're frightened -." She cut him off once more with another cackle.

"You have no idea. The darkness bears down on you, cutting you off from everything. They _swore_ I wouldn't have to endure it any longer. They lied!"

He assumed, correctly, that she meant the people at the psychiatric hospital. "They didn't know. And yes, it might happen again. But it won't last forever. And then there will be light, and vision, and the darkness will lift." He couldn't keep the bitterness from his voice, but at his words, some of the pressure around his chest lifted, and he felt her consider his words for the first time. He continued, trying desperately to get through to her.

"Please, Ella, listen to me. I understand what you went through, more than most. I live in the dark too. Everywhere I look, it's just black." His voice was soft, insistent. "I hated it at first. Feared it. I still do, at times. But I've also accepted that this may be what life is like for me, forever."

He dropped to the floor as she released him, falling to his feet before his legs gave way, and grabbing his shoulder. But he didn't stop speaking, knowing that she hadn't stopped listening.

"It won't be like that for you. I know you can feel that pull, the pull of your body. Surrender to it. You can. And you won't be in the dark forever. You'll see, that there's nothing to be afraid of. Please. You don't have to do this."

At the end of his words, he felt a ripple in the air, like a struggle, or something. He knew it was Ella. And then she was disappearing, fading from Sam's senses. And then she was gone.

Sam sighed with relief, then winced as he felt the full effect of his shoulder. And his ribs. He would definitely need to get those looked at. But for now he had to ignore it.

"Hayden?" he called out, thinking of the man and his brother for the first time since Ella had shown up.

"Still down here, Sam," the reply came from somewhere to his right. He crawled forward, feeling his way cautiously. And then he came to a hole. "This one?" He hoped so.

"Yeah, that's the one. Can you get us out of here?"

Sam sighed with relief again. "No, I've dislocated my shoulder. I can't lift anything." Hell, he was having trouble breathing as well.

"So how are we getting out of here?" Hayden asked, panic in his voice.

Sam sighed with frustration this time, and looked uselessly around. "I'll have to go to the entrance and call for help. Will you be all right down there for a bit?"

"As long as Ella doesn't come back," Hayden responded. Sam shook his head.

"She won't. I think it's over. I think I convinced her to go back to her body." Which was a huge relief seeing as he couldn't see any other way of doing it. "I'll be back as soon as possible."

"Sam!" Hayden called out before the hunter could leave. "Will you be all right, getting back?"

Sam shrugged. "I'll have to be." He stood, found the wall and made his way from the mine, slowly. Very slowly.

But he found that he didn't care. He was dealing with it. Finally dealing with it. Maybe, probably, he would still hate it at time, curse being blind, feel angry at the world. But in the end, he had to accept it, just like he had told Ella. Because until he got better – if he got better – the dark was his world.


	11. Chapter 11: There's Still Hope

**Disclaimer:** Not mine

**Warning:** Unabashed brotherly fluff.

**Author's Note:** So, just a short chapter to end the story. Sorry I didn't put his up last night, but I was busy. Anyway, thanks to everyone who's reviewed, and to everyone who's read this story.

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* * *

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Chapter 11: There's Still Hope

The cops thanked Sam and left, closing their notebook that was now filled with the lies the young hunter had told them. Sighing with relief that it was over, he slid off the hospital bed, wincing as even the light impact jarred on his ribs. He put his free hand – the other being in a sling – to them for a moment before walking from the room, feeling his way cautiously as he went.

It had been three hours since he had called the cops and the ambulance to help Dean, Hayden and Steve from their respective prisons. Dean and Steve were going to be all right, while the cops were now on the lookout for a mysterious shadow man and his alluring accomplice, the ones they would never find because they didn't actually exist.

A nurse found him as he walked from the room where the cops had questioned him while the doctor had put his shoulder back into place and wrapped his ribs. He asked nicely and she guided him to Dean's room, where his brother lay recuperating.

In silence, Sam sat in the chair beside his brother's bed, though he had to fumble for it a bit. Once he was in it, he leaned forward, resting his arms on the bed. Dean looked over at him, still dazed but no longer confused.

"How you feeling?" Sam asked gently after a moment. He couldn't take the silence anymore.

Dean shrugged. "Not too bad, considering. Mostly dehydrated, I think. It's a wonder that guy's brother survived."

Sam nodded. "Yeah, Steve's lucky. So are you, though."

Dean grinned. "Yeah, lucky I have a stubborn, pain in the ass brother."

Sam grinned back. "So what's that, three times I've rescued you now? You _must_ be getting rusty."

"Hey," Dean said sharply, amusement still in his voice. "You're making up for all the times I've saved your ass."

They fell into a comfortable silence. That was, until Dean frowned, and Sam knew the older man had something he needed to say. Something Sam was sure he didn't want to hear.

"How do you do it, man?" Dean asked quietly, looking up. Sam frowned, confused.

"Do what?" he asked. He seriously had no clue what his brother was talking about.

Dean gave a half-hearted chuckle. "How do you not go crazy? I mean, with your… your sight." He shook his head. "I was in total darkness down there. Completely. Everything was black, and heavy. And I seriously thought I was blind."

Sam swallowed, looking down. But Dean hadn't finished. "I was like that for a day, tops. And I couldn't handle it. Jesus, I was sure the world had ended. And you've had to deal with that for the past two months."

"I hardly dealt with it, Dean," Sam broke in. "For the first month… I hated the world. It took time, Dean. Time, and someone to hold me together." Dean grimaced as the talk became just that little too mushy for him. Sam just ignored him. "But I'm dealing. I had to. And you would have too."

Dean was silent for a moment. Then, "You still hate the world, don't you?" he asked quietly.

"You heard me speaking to Ella," Sam realized. Dean nodded, and the younger man sighed. "Sometimes, yes. But I get over it. I deal with it."

A hardness seemed to grip Dean then, a determination. Sam frowned at it, but said nothing as Dean spoke. "I swear, Sam. I will do everything I can to make your eyes better. I won't go looking for doctors, or anything," he assured his brother as Sam looked set to argue. "But I will look. I'll find a way to get your sight back. No one should have to live in the dark."

Sam was still for a moment. And then he nodded. Dean needed to do this, he realized. So he nodded, and they fell back into silence.

* * *

They were leaving the hospital the next day when Sam felt Hayden running to catch up to them. He stopped, and Dean stopped with him, a frown on his face. He wanted to get out of the hospital before more nurses came to tell him what a bad idea it was to leave so soon, especially with a concussion. But Dean couldn't stand hospitals.

"Sam, I'm glad I caught you," Hayden said as he approached, somewhat breathless. "I just wanted to thank you. For helping me find Steve."

Sam smiled. "I ought to be thanking you. I wouldn't have been able to do anything without your help," he told the older man. But Hayden shook his head.

"You would have found a way. Hey, did you hear about Ella?"

Sam cocked his head. "No. What about her?"

Hayden gave Dean a glance. "I rang up, to see what had happened with her once the spirit left." Sam mentally winced as he realized he should have done that. "And the nurse said she woke up this morning, and she was fine. All signs of madness gone. Only she doesn't remember the past few months. Since the end of January in fact."

Sam smiled grimly. "That's probably a good thing. I don't think she could cope, knowing what she had done. Or what her spirit did." His smile brightened a little. "Thanks for telling me, Hayden." He felt Dean's impatience to leave, and actually grinned. "Anyway, we're leaving. If you ever need anything, give me a call. I'll see you around."

Hayden smiled and extended his hand. As Sam grabbed it, the older man said, "I'll see you around, Sam."

The hunters turned and left.

* * *

Dean wasn't sure what it was that woke him. But wake he did, and he sat up, confused a little. He turned on the light and looked around.

His gaze settled on Sam, who was sitting up in his bed, concentrating hard on something. Dean yawned before turning it into a frown.

"Sam? What you doing?" he asked sleepily. His brother turned to him, an excited look on his face. Then, he got out of bed, bridged the gap over to Dean's, and proceeded to punch the older hunter in the shoulder.

"Ow! Sam, what the hell?"

Sam sat back down on his bed, his face lit by happiness and relief. "Dean, I can see. Well, not see, not exactly. But shapes, shades… they're all there!"

It took a moment for the words to sink in. And then he sat up quickly, his own face breaking out into a grin.

"What? Sam, are you serious?" The younger man nodded excitedly. Dean laughed. "This is awesome!"

He sighed, letting go of some of his stress. He sat back, enjoying the moment, a moment of happiness. These moments had been too few and too far between of late.

He sighed again, watching his baby brother wave a hand in front of his face. Then the grin was back up and he muttered to himself.

"There's still hope."

* * *

You didn't think I would leave him blind did you? I couldn't do that. So, the story will continue… if you want it to.

Thanks heaps for reading!


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